Dreaming of Foxfire
by Thanatanos
Summary: Some of the most important struggles in our life tend to come from within, between us, ourselves, and the world and it's views. Some have a mental block that they long to overcome. Some have past regrets that tug from behind. Taylor feels as if she's drowning in her troubles between her school, her identity, and a certain nine tailed fox.
1. Chapter 1

Hey! So first fanfic I ever wrote, this site is pretty much just the archive. Bear with me, will ya? Just google Dreaming of Foxfire Spacebattles if you want to see where all the discussion was, but this should have the content.

Start of new 1.1

"Taylor, where do you think you're going?"

"Just out for a walk," I said, pausing at the edge of the door.

Dad turned from the television, hand resting on the back of the couch. He pushed his glasses up as a mild frown crossed his face. "Then why do you have your backpack with you?"

Turning, I shifted it to my back instead of trying to shield it with my body. It had been a pretty sad attempt anyways; I've always been really thin, now more than ever before. If someone was feeling generous they might call me svelte, but I hear scarecrow, anorexic, and washboard more often. "No reason."

Dad rose from the couch, brows seeming to furrow even as he smiled, choosing to ignore his suspicion for now. "Getting a little stir crazy?"

"Just a bit," I said, attempting a smile, though I'm sure it turned out right. A stranger to my face in the past year and a half, it felt more like a grimace than anything else. And while dad's didn't drop, his brow furrowed more.

"Then wait a second, it won't take me long to get ready," he said, reaching for his shoes.

"I was hoping to go alone," I said, trying to ignore the flicker of pain that crossed dad's face. His expression smoothed, gaze firming.

"Taylor, you know it's dangerous out there right now even in the middle of a day, especially for a fifteen year old girl. Gang activity is on the rise-"

"Dad," I interrupted, "This is Brockton Bay. Gang activity is _always_ on the rise."

"-you're too vulnerable, still recovering, and that f- _person_ who targeted you still hasn't been found," he finished, cheeks reddening before he sighed, closing his eyes, taking a moment to compose himself. When they opened his smile had dropped. He looked worried, but I could recognize the slow simmer of anger just behind his eyes. My forced smile dropped but I pushed on, making the effort.

"Dad," I said, "They released me from the hospital with a clean bill of health."

"They released you from the hospital on the grounds you could _recover,"_ he returned, swiping his hand through the air. "Three days is not enough time."

"I can walk fine."

"But can you protect yourself?"

Reaching into my bag, I took out the pepper spray. "About as well as I could before."

"Taylor-"

"Dad. Please," I said, cutting him off. "I just need a day to myself. Staring at the same walls, being unable to move forward, to do _anything_ is driving me crazy. Give me one day out. A few hours even!"

Dad blinked, head tilting back before his eyes firmed. He didn't respond at first, just studying me. I shifted my bag, straightening my bag, doing my best to seem alert and ready. He sighed, rising from the couch, navigating the clutter that was our entranceway. Putting a hand on my head, he let it sit. "You don't feel like you have a fever."

"I don't."

"And your arms aren't swollen, I don't see any signs of infection," he continued, meeting me full in the eyes. "You have your antibiotics with you, right?"

My bag opened, I showed him the bottles. He nodded.

"And you have your pepper spray, your flashlight and I.D.'s in there as well. First aid kit?"

"In the back pocket," I said, shifting to show him. "My water bottle's here too."

He nodded, making a show of looking through every nook and cranny. "I don't see your spending money anywhere."

My heart beat faster, a tiny smile worming its way onto my face. "Spending money?"

"Yes," he said, fishing some bills from his wallet. He handed them over to me, and I took them. Forty Dollars _._ _Wow._

"Are you sure?" I said, eying the stack of unopened letters on the table.

"Positive," he said, nodding firmly. "The settlement may have been useless otherwise, but it _did_ help us save some money, even if we can't really prosecute the school, or the people who did this to you. Even if no one seems to know who that is." He gave me a look.

Shifting uncomfortably, I looked away, pocketing the money. "Yeah. I guess."

We stood like that for a while, neither willing to move. Finally he sighed and leaned in, arms circling my shoulders. Out of practice, unfamiliar, and butterfly light, it felt kind of awkward, but the sentiment remained.

"Just be careful out there," dad murmured. "I love you kiddo, and I'd hate for anything bad to happen. Promise me you'll stay out of trouble."

I nodded, even though he couldn't see. "I promise," I said, lying through my teeth.

-x-

Paint peeled from the walls in little rollers of grey, their original color long lost to the rains. Like most places on the docks the house was long abandoned, its windows boarded over and wood rotting from age. The door wasn't any different, the handle rusty to the touch, and I'm pretty sure if I turned it it would probably break. With the nearby streets abandoned and the thick coat of dust, there was only one word to describe the place.

Perfect. Wonderful. And a whole host of others.

Well, to me at least. A more critical person might call it a dump, but I'm not really in any position to complain. It's safe, it's secret, it's separated from society. Testing my powers in public would be pretty stupid.

Yes, I have powers. Well, at least I think I do. There's this hazy energy just sitting in the back of my head forming a rough shape, kind of like an orb. It appeared all of the sudden after the incident at my locker which left me bedridden in a hospital for a couple of days. I've heard a lot of people and heroes get their powers like that. The Protectorate, the local heroes, sometimes say it on television. Trauma, danger, or even I shock, but I wonder how many people receive it from their former best friend.

Shaking the thought from the head I pushed open the door, the dry, brittle wood giving way beneath my fingers. The handle fell off and hit the floor with a clank, but that's okay, I didn't need it, the lock was broken anyways.

Bringing my hand to my hoodie I brought it up to my nose, trying to purge the pungent odor of mildew and mold. It's one thing to walk past these houses; it's another entirely to go inside one. The shadows were uneven and from different directions, light filtering in through the holes in the roof, catching floating trails of dust in their early morning glow. The air was _thick_ of the stuff to the point that I wondered how I was breathing, but I was, so I moved, my shoes sometimes touching chunks of wood or broken glass.

Dad would have had a literal fit if he saw this and probably rant for a while about how low the docks fell. He's spent his whole life fighting to clean them -or at least from what I could remember, he tells me he was a troublemaker as a kid- and while he's had _some_ success, or at least kept his Union alive, Brockton's been in decline for a long, long time. Ever since capes appeared some people say, people with powers like there used to be in comics.

The whole 'being real' part kind of killed the comics themselves. They ran out of business not to long after Scion, the first cape, appeared, about...almost thirty years ago, back in 1982.

Anyways, none of that really has anything to do with me besides the whole being a cape part and possible super powers, if they even work. I've have my fingers crossed, so here's to hoping.

Finding a private place in an abandoned house was actually turning out pretty hard to find. The holes in the walls and the ceilings letting light in meant they could also let _sight_ in, and that's something I wasn't too keen on. Capes have a _reason_ they wear costumes after all, and it's not just because they all look good in spandex. Some of them really, really, really don't.

I would know. I'm one of them.

Funny how that was the last thought I hung on to before I found the _perfect_ place to test my powers. The abandoned bathroom of the abandoned house, smelling of mold and rot and the guys lockers when you pass it. But none of that matters because today is the day that I'll discover my powers. Today is the day I become a hero!

Nothing. Blank. Diddly squat. Thirty minutes smelling this putrid stench with nothing to show for it besides an intermittent sneeze.

Something tickled my nose, and I pinched at the top. I'd better not be getting a cold from all this.

No. Have to try again. Maybe I did something wrong, tried the wrong power set. Aren't powers supposed to be instinctive? Well let's see. I've got this orb of energy in the air. I can float it around. It can't affect objects. It can't create beams. It can't create shields or bubbles of force. I can't _see_ what is in it, only feel where it is. Maybe…

My orb of energy moved to the counter where the toilet paper lay, old and rotted, yes, but if this works…Disentagrate!

It sagged on the shelf, a bit of mold falling off. Hard to tell if I made that happen or it just decided to kick the bucket.

I just about gave up. The second worst day of my life turned about to be useless after all. But still, anything's better than the first.

I blinked, rubbing the liquid from my eyes as I carefully removed a creased picture of my mother from the confines of my backpack. It was an old, faded photo, some of the details lost with time. There I was, age seven, sitting on her lap trying to read a book. My mom was there, wavy brown hair and rimmed glasses, smiling indulgently down at me as I methodically butchered the pronunciation of the carefully wrought story. My dad stood in the background, laughing, a small carving in his hands. An monkey with a block of wood attached, uncarved as of yet. His knife touched its tip, about to begin the long process of turning the dead wood into a living figurine.

It used to sit on our fireplace when I was younger. Every night before bed they would pick it up, telling tales of a mischievous monkey and a cunning fox. They would fumble, tumble, and have hilarious misadventures, but in the end they always made the right choice. Mostly on accident. Whenever they used to argue in the quiet of night, their heated whispers reaching my room, prying me from my sleep? I would quietly bring them that carving, holding it up, knocking on their door. It wasn't a magic cure all, it wouldn't solve the problem, but it would help, smooth the ire, and make something softer, warmer out of it.

I ended up getting shooed out of the room after, and as I grew older I began to wonder why I was an only child. It didn't matter though; I had a sister in the form of Emma, until a year and a half ago. I lost my mother much sooner.

The day that happened the little figurine on our fireplace disappeared. Dad didn't comment on it, and I never asked. Afterwards dad was always leery. Of cars, cell phones, and arguments. As bad as the locker was, the hurt was mainly psychological, and only to _me,_ the trust already betrayed. I could recover, I could get better. Her death… a part of me died that day. A part of my Dad as well.

Why then, did I get my powers now? What does this say about me?

I shook my head, replacing the photo in the faded purple fabric of my bag. No use thinking about that now. Instead I focused, preparing to experiment with my power, but stopped. A vague thumping noise, a couple of curses.

I breathed, easing myself down, peeking through a crack in the bathroom door. I blinked at the dust and the glare, the creaking wood of the derelict house clawing at my ears. Two men staggered through the door, boots thudding. My dad's the head of the dockworkers association; I'd been around enough of them to know that whatever was in that blanket bundled package between them, it was _heavy._ The men carrying the bundle were pretty sketchy themselves. One was a little taller than me, big in the way you expected a football player to be, dressed in a black jacket, jeans and white t-shirt combo. He had no skin showing, from what I could see, gloves on his hand and a ski mask on. He moved quickly, efficiently. His partner was pretty close to the same height, but that's where the similarities end.

While the other man was calm, this guy jerked around like some sort of crack addict, cursing under his breath. His clothes were worn, dirty and ragged on the edges, just jeans and a cut-off shirt. I couldn't see his face through the crack, and I didn't want to move in case they heard me. Sketchy and dangerous looking, not even counting the bundle in their hands. This was _exactly_ what dad wanted me to avoid. Maybe they were just here to drop off some junk in an abandoned house, then leave. Enough people did that, it was _possible._

Great job Taylor. Of all the abandoned houses in the docks you had to pick the one with the shady people.

Then they dropped the package and it _whimpered._

A breath caught in my throat. Whatever's in there is _alive._

The skinny one bent down, muttering getting louder as he unwrapped the bundle. An Asian woman, looking somewhere in her thirties was rolled out, gagged with a rag and rope. Dressed in a business suit, her hands and legs were tied together. She moved slowly, and her eyes were glazed. Drugged.

I let out my breath. Okay Taylor. Don't panic. Panicking doesn't help anything. You want to be a hero, right? _Do something._ No idea what my powers do, so I did a quick inventory of my bag. Paper, pencils, books. Not for the first time I wished I had a cell phone. I could call the police, text my dad, do _something._

Then black jacket turned towards the door, and the thin one did the same, giving me a view of the back of his head, the 88 tattoo on the half with his hair shaved off…and his gun. My panic fit was aborted early when I heard what they were turning for. Sirens. _The police are on it._

Thin guy started shaking all over. "Gonna get me, gonna get me, there gonna get me, I'm going to _fucking_ jail...You! This is all _your_ fault!" He stood straight, pointing a shaking finger at Black Jacket. Black Jacket turned to look at him.

"My fault?"

"This is the police! Step out of the building with your hands on your head where I can see them!" I felt relieved. The police were here. Everything would be better now. All I had to do was keep quiet, and the kidnappers would be arrested. I felt disappointed. I'd done nothing, again.

The thin one cursed, grabbing the woman, dragging her through the door, gun held to her head. "None of you move! I've got a hostage and a gun!" Then he slammed it, dropping the woman again, while his partner watched the windows. He started moving all over, piling furniture against the door. "Yes this is your damn fault! Without you, I wouldn't even be here! I'd be back at the club, smoking a joint, not chased by the cops in an abandoned building!"

Jacket just waved his hand, head unmoving. "I didn't force you to come, you wanted to. You wanted the payout as much as I do."

Thin cursed under his breath, then punched the wall. _"Fuck._ What are we gonna do then, huh? _You're_ the one who wanted us to duck into the house."

"We were tired from carrying her too long, and our drop off split."

"Yeah? Well how the hell was this supposed to help against the _thirty-_ "

Jacket drew a phone from his, well, jacket. "Shut up, Mark."

Mark shut up.

They stood there, Jacket tapping on his phone. Mark fidgeted, alternating between snarling at the door, at Jacket, and the woman he kept a hold on, who looked more aware by the second. Then Jacket spoke. "Backups not coming. They were intercepted by Battery and Assault."

" _Fuck."_

"They offered us a deal. Mission changed. They don't want her kidnapped anymore, they want her _gone._ We do the deed and they set us up, double pay with new identities and homes."

Mark went silent, tapping his gun against the wall, playing with the safety. He didn't say no.

My heart rate spiked. I felt an odd mix of dizzy, helpless, and _focused,_ pins and needles all around. They're going to _kill_ her. What can I do? Everything I had with me was useless; my power was the only thing that might work. Out of the few trials I'd done before they came, projecting was all that had done _something._ I tried to make a forcefield. Nothing. Just doing it wrong. I tried to push them away. Nothing. One more try. I moved the energy out, tried pushing it into them. It danced around, _avoiding_ them. I pushed harder, same result. _Still_ nothing. I growled, moisture running down my cheeks. Damnit, this isn't _fair._ I have this power and I can't affect _anything._

If I run out as I am, try to be a distraction? Best case scenario, they get two hostages. Worst case scenario, they kill one of us and _still_ have a hostage. Blood pounding in my ears and teeth gritting, I stood there, pulling my energy back. Useless, unwilling to make a sound. Helpless. Isolated. Alone.

No.

No. I can't think like that. I need to save her. I need to be better. Stronger. Faster. Less hesitant. I need

 _Bright light, glowing orb_

-to _change._

xXxXx-xXxXx

I staggered against the door, bracing myself. A changer power. Not what I expected. I took a step forward, surprised. My center of balance was definitely off but if anything my movements seemed to be smoother, surer. One of the myriad differences about my current form. I blinked, removing my glasses while brushing back a lock of straight, black hair and the world sprung back into focus. Everything seemed brighter, clearer than before. I twitched, reaching atop my head as what felt like triangular _ears_ moved atop it, sensitive enough to hear the chatter of police. Nine new appendages fanned behind me. I thought, they moved, waving around me in complex patterns. I caught a glimpse of white fur, a tapered point. The energy was still separate, useless, but there is a new source. Wild, untamed, standing at the ready, _begging_ to be used.

Pulling down my hood to obscure my face I flicked a tail, blue-white fire appearing, moving where I willed it. I smiled. Excellent. A plan began to form.

Oddly my changed hair inspired the most dread. My former brown curls were one of the few links I had to my pride, my femininity, and my mother. Hopefully this wouldn't be permanent. Easing myself down I crouched, glancing through the chipped hole.

And Mark looked right back.

Well, not quite. He certainly didn't make any eye contact, either it was too dark for him to see or the hole too obscure. His heart beat at the speed of a young rabbit, the quick glances he shot at his partner confirming my thoughts. Far too young to be doing this kind of work. He was either ruthless or destitute. I doubted the former, favoring the latter. His body language screamed desperation, his grip on the gun weak. Though that very tool he wielded constituted him as a threat, terrible form or no. I would have to…relieve him of it at the earliest convenience. Still, if it was only an amateur like him this would have been easy. My gaze drifted to the right and I sighed.

His partner remained resolute, standing straight backed against the wall. One hand remained around the arm of the slowly waking hostage, the other playing with a knife. Flick, retract, store. Flick, retract, store. Every motion quick, efficient. His field of vision encompassed the windows, the front door, and the bathroom. I let out a breath. No, one of my marks has to be competent, _dangerous._ Why would he leave the choice up to the baby of the group? Something was going on here but it wasn't relevant, a distracting amusement. I dropped the train of thought, focusing onto the aptly named Mark.

He snarled, slowly approaching the door. "Whoever's in there this is your last warning! Come out now or I start shooting!"

Pathetic. He should have just shot, not warned me. Perhaps if he spoke while standing still I would thought he meant it. Then again, it wasn't as if he knew I could see him. As it was he approached, gun aimed several feet above where my actual head was, perhaps where it might have been if I was standing. And a foot taller. I noticed Jacket's eye twitch, barely visible through his baklava, but he said nothing. Seeing as he wouldn't interfere, at least not now, I had more options. I coiled in on myself, ready to spring.

Mark came closer, waving his gun threateningly. When nothing happened he took a quick step forwards, then back, eying the door. I waited. Finally he reached out, one hand on the gun, one on the doorknob-

I _shoved_ , catching Mark unawares, smashing the Empire thug into the nearby wall as I sent a torrent of fire towards Jacket. Mark's gun flew outwards, landing on a pile of broken furniture. I slammed the door again and heard a satisfying crack, watching his visible arm go limp. I worried a bit that I killed him, but pushed it to the side. He'd be fine, and if not, so what? Not important right now, I had a hostage to save. I twirled, leaping towards Jacket-

 **Pulse**

-and _surged_ , sheathing my tails in energy, changing direction midair and flying to the side with a sudden burst of speed, a throwing knife occupying the space where my head had been. I hit the floor and pushed it away, condensing my essence down to a thick stream, directing it at Jacket. He ducked behind the counter as we entered the kitchen but several streaks broke through. Grunting he hit the floor with a thump, echoed by a second, smaller one. There was a small, plaintive cry, what sounded like sobbing. He still held the hostage. I surged again, draining my reserves as I flew up and over the counter, calling fire around myself as I flew over-

 **Pulse**

-and stopped, standing on the counter as my fires swirled round me, casting an eerie blue-white light on my surroundings. Jacket stood straight and strong despite his labored breath, hostage held like a bodyshield. The Asian businesswoman cried through her gag, unintelligible, eyes tearing up, battered and beaten. His left held a knife to her throat, his right a gun to my chest. I stood, studying it a moment before I cocked my head, ears twitching atop it to his every wheeze. "I'm surprised you can stand with all those burns. Some of them look fairly deep and serious."

He chuckled. It would have sounded natural to anyone else, but I could hear the effort it took him, how he breathed harder. A cauterized hole in his side stretched in response, visible through a flapping piece of leather and a revealed green vest. It must have been painful, but he didn't flinch. He flicked his eyes over my shoulder to his fallen partner, then back to me. "I've had worse, though not by much. How the hell did you get fire to punch harder than a bullet?"

I shot him a dazzling smile as my ears twitched, the sound of sirens and yelling getting closer. "Trade secret I'm afraid, don't negotiate with terrorists and all that. Though I admit I'm curious about you myself. The other guy was just a thug. Boring, panicking, _easy._ You're a harder nut to crack, a man of mystery. Calm, strong, confident. Certainly not acting like your average flunky, yet you deferred to him. You wouldn't happen to be willing to release your hostage, would you? I'm sure we could carry out this conversation elsewhere. Perhaps over a cup of chai tea. I happen to know a place, interested?"

He chuckled, tightening his grip on the hostage, pressing the knife closer to her throat. My heart beat a bit faster at that, but he didn't draw blood. The businesswoman's struggles ceased as she eyed it, keeping perfectly still. I snarled inwardly, but didn't let it show. "Can't say I'm not tempted, but no can do. Prior commitments and all that. But I'll tell you what. Let me get rid of the deadweight here and I'll take you up on that, yeah?"

My smile turned sharper and my tails began to writhe around me as I used part of my shrinking reserves to summon more fire, to keep him guessing till backup came. "A shame then. It would have been fun. "

He grunted in agreement, and I-

 **Pulse**

-ducked ,pulling my energy inwards, burning through. Everything slowed down, dust caught in beams of sun, chipped wood falling like feathers. Slow-motion Jacket shot his gun, the flash illuminating the room for a prolonged instant as his knife gained an edge of red. I ran closer, grasping for _his_ energy, a disciplined spark compared to my roiling flame, and _pulled._

His actions stopped, his eyes found mine. His hands, if not letting go, _loosened_. It gave me a moment to reach him, knock the gun from his hand and remove his knife- then the moment ended, and time sped up.

His eyes regained focus, his gaze sharpened, and he _plunged_ the knife into the woman's shoulder. Blood welled thickly, dripping her life away onto the cloth of her clothes. She screamed, _I_ screamed as I placed my hands on him, sucking away _his_ spark and _his_ energy even as he used his superior strength to try to push me away. He punched, pushed and leveraged as I clung to his knife arm, trying to tug it out, get it away. His efforts grew feebler and feebler and he pulled the hand pushing me away, reaching somewhere for _something._ I didn't care, grasping at his knife hand, pummeling it where I could with bouts of fire as my energy disappeared and welled, disappeared and welled, pulling from his flickering candle to me. I grabbed it, twisted it, throwing it away. There was a high, metallic noise, a kind of _tink-_

My head hit the counter, my tails _burning_ in pain. I heard the police breaking through but couldn't bring myself to care _._ I pulled in the energy, _his_ energy, surrounding myself, sheathing it into my skin. My tails retracted, ears coming in, and I _shrunk._ But the pain lessened, my vision blurred. The shouting of the police, the crying of the woman.

Then darkness.

x-x

"You wish to give your statement now?" He sounded confused, puzzled.

Taking a deep breath I nodded seriously, staring into the pale green eyes of Officer Villers. He hummed, brushing back a lock of his white hair. I was kind of curious about that. Usually people with that much white were somewhere over seventy, he looked more like a healthy fifty. He shook his head, smile warm, a touch amused. "I'm sorry, but I am afraid I will have to decline. If you want this recorded, used in court, image is important. An aging officer interviewing a young girl in a hospital gown doesn't exactly give the right impression."

I bristled." I have clothes-"

He raised a hand. " _Had_ clothes. They are torn, ripped, and generally unusable. Mere rags. It is a miracle you backpack remains undamaged with all the punishment you seemed to take." He stared at me, cocking his head. "You're certain they didn't do anything…untoward to you? Besides the kidnapping and attempted murder of course. They didn't try to-"

My hands waved, cutting him off. "No, nothing like that. They just found me in that house, they didn't have time for _anything_. Miss Nakane- I mean Naoko- was the real victim, I was pretty much a bystander."

He nodded, lips twitching. "Yes, fortunate indeed that unknown Parahuman showed up to save you both when she did. It could have been much worse."

I cleared my throat, looking away. He seemed to suspect something, but he wasn't pushing. Taking that as a good sign I tried to act nonchalant about the whole thing. Pretty sure I failed. "Yeah, good thing. Umm, you wouldn't happen to know what they're calling her?"

Officer Villers smiled. "Well, we don't exactly know much about her, what little we have gleaned is from our surprisingly cooperative captive kidnapper. I would have expected a man like him to stay quiet, but he has been a veritable goldmine of information about Empire 88, though he claims master influence. He has been transferred to PRT custody for now." I frowned, snorting in disbelief. He continued. "She has tentatively been classed as Foxfire, a vigilante, independent hero. Mind you she will have to sign with the Parahuman Response Team to make anything official so everything is temporary, including the codename."

Foxfire. Independent hero. I couldn't help but smile at that, attempting to hide it behind my hand. Pretty sure he caught it anyways, but he wasn't prying. I had the feeling he was the really trustworthy type. I'd been suspicious at first, worried he would hound me, question me, put me on the spot, but so far he had been nothing but supportive. That, and I didn't mind the name.

I heard the door open and turned my head. Naoko entered, shutting it quietly. She looked between me and Officer Villers, settling down in one of the myriad chairs surrounding the room. It was the office room of this clinic- _her_ clinic, much to my surprise- so she made herself right at home. Panacea did good work. She seemed much better than before, dressed neatly in a business casual shirt and skirt, seemingly confident, controlled, elegant. Her hand shook when she went to get her coffee, though she tried to hide it. "Am I interrupting anything?"

Officer Villers shook his head, squinting at her worriedly. "No, we were merely going over the details of the case. Are you sure you are feeling alright, Miss Nakane? Most people wouldn't be moving around on their own so soon after such an ordeal, physically or mentally."

She shook her head, glaring at him a bit before subsiding. "Yes, I am. Besides, it would do me little good to sit and stew. I have a clinic to run, after all.

He shook his head. "I'm sure it would survive without you for a day. You should be resting, recuperating."

She frowned, her mug hitting the desk with a _clink_. "I am sorry sir, but I respectfully decline."

Sighing, he muttered under his breath, far below what most people could hear. "Youngsters these days, so headstrong," but raised his head, showing nothing but patience. "If you insist. I apologize if I might have seemed a bit pushy, a habit of mine thanks to my stubborn daughter, and indeed granddaughter.

Naoko gave a brief smile, sipping on her coffee. "It was no trouble, you meant well."

I tapped my chair, and their attention returned to me. I quailed a bit before clearing my throat, meeting Officer Villers' eyes. "Excuse me, but if now is not a good time to give my statement, what time would?"

He hummed in thought, turning to me. "Usually we take your statement at your earliest convenience, so as soon as you find some clothes."

Naoko butted in, questioning. "What happened to her old ones?"

"Ripped beyond repair, I'm afraid."

She nodded, motioning for me to come. "I shall buy you new ones then."

I balked. "Uhm, no thanks. I mean, it's not necessary, I have my own-"

She waved her hand, pushing away my problems. "Nonsense. After such a shared ordeal, it is only fair I help a fellow victim of this crime, and it wouldn't do to send you home in nothing but a hospital gown. I can lend you some spares in the meantime, running sweats I keep here for occasion. We are similar enough heights, and sweats are loose. They should fit. Then we can work on getting you proper clothes. I shall call my daughter. She can drive you to a clothing shop."

"Uh...wouldn't the sweats be enough for the statement?" I looked hopefully towards Officer Villers, but he just chuckled, amused. He ignored my question, handing me a note.

"That note has the information you will need to give the man at the front desk, as well as the location of the station. Just off 32nd and 15th. Anytime between now and eight o'clock would work fine today, and anytime between ten and eight any other day of the week. Now run along, wouldn't want to make her wait, now would we?"

I stared at him, betrayed, and he just smiled back mischievously, wrinkles giving him a knowing air. I sighed, stood up, and followed Naoko. She walked briskly ahead, bringing me to a room behind her office, rummaging through a closet. She walked out with a pair of white sweats and a loose red top, tossing them both to me. I caught them and entered the bathroom, somewhat disappointed by the lack of mirrors. I eyed my straight black hair curiously before shrugging, changing quickly. I exited the room, smiling nervously. "You're sure this isn't good enough?" the clothes were a _way_ better quality than I was used to, the design probably pretty fashionable. I was already uncomfortable enough. She shook her head, pursing her lips as she looked down at a phone.

"No, not nearly. Come, my daughter is outside."

I started to follow her, biting my lip. "Is this really necessary? I mean, keeping the fact that I'm a parahuman secret and helping me with a cover story is thanks enough. There's no need to go this far."

She shook her head, staring firmly at me. "It is not nearly enough. You saved my life from those bigoted Empire thugs. Keeping your secret and replacing lost clothes is the least I can do." I frowned, looking away. When she next spoke, she sounded amused. "However, I can see you dislike this. So bear with me for now and I will not bother you later." I looked back and nodded, noting her smile. Her hands weren't shaking as much either. She was holding it together well. _Very_ well.

I wasn't. The things I had done during that kidnapping…that wasn't me. That wasn't anything close to me. It had been an unfamiliar body with an unfamiliar thought process. That I hadn't even noticed it at the time only freaked me out more. However, it seemed with a more human form came with a more human thought process. That, and after panicking in a bathroom a bit I found that I could change back to normal. _Completely_ normal, curly hair and all. It took five minutes, but still.

Even then I would wonder, I would worry. I remembered shoving the door into that thug, Mark. Slamming him against the wall till I heard a distinct, unhealthy crack, his arm going limp. Sure, he lived. In fact, he was on the run. No one knew where he was. But I thought he had died. I just couldn't shake the thought that it hadn't been the alien thought process that let me contemplate killing so easily, that it had been _me._ But if Naoko could be so strong, recover so quickly, then I could at least _fake_ it.

I took a breath, fixing a smile on my face, and stood up tall. Well, as tall as I could. I was certainly smaller now. "Well then, I'm ready. When do we leave?"

x-x

I closed the door of the cherry red sports car, waving goodbye to Naoko. She had a clinic to run after all. I turned, looking a bit awkwardly at her daughter. She looked a lot like Naoko, slim, attractive, Asian, but her eyes were a pale blue, not brown. She hit the gas, powering us into traffic. Once we hit a stoplight she turned towards me, extending her hand. I was surprised to hear her speak, she had a Boston accent. Not what I expected. "So hey, Nakane Seka here, nice to meet you."

I took hers tentatively, taking a breath. "I…no comment on my name right now. Sorry, trying to remain anonymous."

She looked at me, cocking her head. "That right huh? Cool." She hit the gas, facing forwards again. "You know, you're a lot quieter than I thought you would be. Expected the cape who saved mom to be more confident."

My head whiplashed as I took her in. Her grin was cocky, confidant. "Bingo. Wasn't sure I was right for a second there, but your reaction told me enough."

I exhaled. "Naoko told you-"

"Nope, mom didn't tell me anything, figured it out on my own." She tapped her head. "I'm a genius, wasn't too hard. Mom gets kidnapped by the neo Nazis, brought to an empty building. Saved by a cape who seamlessly disappears as the end, conveniently replaced by another 'victim', who, by the by, refuses to give her name, not to the police, her fellow victim, or the _hostages daughter_. Top it all off she has me take this 'victim' to _Parian's_ to replace her lost outfit. The last ones the real cincher, Mom wouldn't do that for just anyone. She's in a really generous mood, and just being held hostage for ten minutes with her wouldn't do it." She grinned at me smugly. I just stared at her, dumbfounded that we were going to Parians' of all places, and a little furstrated at being found out _already_.

"So trying to keep a secret was just a wasted effort?"

She waved a hand as she spun the wheel, taking a turn. "Relax, no need to be hostile. I won't tell, and I doubt anyone would figure it out besides me. I'm privy to the police information; my mom sent me the file. It won't reach the public, and it's been routed through PRT channels just for the _chance_ of you being a cape. The public will get a _much_ more believable version with some fancy new bells and whistles. Probably say they saw you fleeing the scene of the crime, say they had two hostages instead of one. Swear everyone to secrecy and all that. Sure some of the info's going to leak, but anyone who figures it out will just be labeled a conspiracy theorist and ignored. PRT's pretty good at PR for an amateur Gestapo."

Okay, _now_ I felt angry. My worries were noticed, appraised, and put down like they were nothing. She barely spared me a glance the entire time, keeping that cocky grin as she spun her way through the streets at an absurd speed. I was surprised she hadn't been pulled over yet, but hadn't seen any police either. She seemed to have a knack of avoiding them. All the same, she meant well. Ish. While her arrogance reminded me of Sophia and Emma, she wasn't being hostile. It seemed more like an attempt to cheer me up. Her way of thanking me. More worrying is what she called the PRT. "Gestapo? Really? They're just a better armed police force meant to deal with Parahuman emergencies."

She grunted as she took a turn. "Exactly. Gestapo. They protect the baseline, the normals, the bores. They only have one job; to hunt down Parahumans. They don't stop normal crime. A bank robbery? A kidnapping? A _murder?_ _Pfeh._ Leave it to the Police, they'll say. _They_ can deal with it. But soon as there is any Parahuman involvement their on it. They drop _everything_ just to get their hooks in someone. I mean hell, sure they'll help you out, but that's only so they can try to get you in their claws. They only see Parahumans in two ways. You're either with them or against them."

"There's the Protecorate, the rogues-"

"The Protectorates their pet capes. As long as they toe the line, fight the villains, get the PR and die in Endbringer fights they're safe. But how many _successful_ independent Heroes and Rogues do you hear of, eh? Why don't _they_ get the funding? Because they don't want to sign a blood contract, don't want to bow to the baselines. Because the PRT's afraid, rightfully so. Look at Heartbreaker and his spawn. Capes' kids become capes. He's had tons of them. 100% Parahuman. When the golden man first appeared he named himself Scion. The one who comes after. You get it? Scion is a fucking idiot, but he got one thing right. You hear rumors, but people try to clamp it down, keep it quiet. We're the next step, the final piece of human evolution. People don't like that so they made the PRT and their pets. You seem new, so take my advice. If you want any freedom, any say in your life? Stay the _hell_ away from the Protectorate."

I didn't know where to begin. "You're a cape."

"Never claimed not to be."

"Does your mother know?"

She snorted. "Nah, I'm keeping it low key for now. No daring escapades or anything dumb like that."

"If you really are keeping it low key, they won't give you any trouble. Why are you so against them?"

"Because all they are after is _authority._ Because their jealous little twats, trying to hog the whole glory pie. Because they don't care if anyone's smarter than them. _Better_ than them. Like all authority figures, anyone not in their immediate control that surpasses them in any way? They _suppress_ them. Squish em to bits. Deny _all_ of their inventions, theirs accomplishments, _and steal it as their own_." Her hands spasmed, grasping the wheel a second before she relaxed, pulling into a parking lot. I loosened my grip on the seat, relaxing as she turned.

"Hey, were here. C'mon, let's hurry up. Should be pretty empty this day of the week, Parians getting ready to close up shop early. Too bad, because at night it looks fucking amazing. She got some ensembles that _glow._ " She stood up, her countenance calm, almost bored. I followed warily, a few steps behind.

She may be Naoko's daughter. She may be a genius like she claimed. She may have even saved lives. I vaguely remembered them talking about this air bomb thing they called the purifier orb she invented. Sterilized the air or something. Her ravings could just be the ravings of an ignorant anarchist complaining about the system. But I had a feeling it wasn't. There was this spark of anger in her eye when she spoke, a hint of danger. Should I report her? Warn the Protectorate?

No.

My dad said worse about his union on several occasions, usually in a fit of spitting rage. In a way the Protectorate was the cape equivalent of a union. Seka's ravings were no worse. Well, excepting the trans humanism evolutionary bias, but she was probably just upset, venting. I could see how she tensed from the corner of my eye, how her hands would grasp, her teeth clench. Her mother had just been kidnapped, nearly killed. She kept herself under tight control, looking almost natural, almost happy, but her words belied her act.

I watched her walking round the shop, picking out clothes, studying them, placing them back. She was focused, relaxed, meticulous. Probably using me as a sort of therapy, much like her mother had earlier. For me it was summer camp and lots of repression. For them it was apparently using me like a dress up doll.

Seka turned around, flashing me a smile as she passed me an _incredibly_ low-cut red top. "Hey, I think you should try this. It would look _great_ on you."

I held it up a little gingerly. It felt like holding a live snake. "How about something grey? And plain? That covers more skin?"

x-x

x-x

Foxfire 1.3

The Officer on desk duty looked up, surprised. "Could you repeat that?"

I took a breath, tugging at my new clothes. I hadn't escaped Parians shop unscathed. After much Seka ended up scraping her first choice, going with a more conservative version with the same color scheme. Red with trimmings of white along the edges, decorations of gold embroidery. Calf high boots with a formfitting shorts and top combo. It covered everything important but left most of my arms and legs bare, making me feel rather self-conscious. Seka had a terrible sense of schadenfreude. It was as if she sensed my discomfort and latched on, venting vicariously through me. She had held up various outfits, all leaving me flustered and blushing before finally settling on this.

Afterwards, when I asked for a spare bra, some sweats and a grey hoodie in my normal size she agreed, not even batting a lash.

On the bright side, I'd finally found a mirror. I wasn't sure how I felt about looking like an airbrushed Asian model, it was like cheating and self-betrayal all at once, but I could deal with it. After all, no one would connect Taylor Hebert with Foxfire when they look so different. "I'm here to give my statement. Officer Villers said he'd take it, confirmation code Sierra-117."

He sighed, shaking his head, muttering under his breath, jowls shaking. "Should have never showed him those Aleph games."

I pretended not to hear. Shouldn't have been able to anyways. "What was that?"

He grumbled, waving his hand, a small smile tugging his lips. "Nothing. Just the Chief and his little jokes." He eyed me appraisingly, gaze lingering. "Apparently he thinks you're a real badass."

My head jerked, I took a step back. "He's the Chief of Police?"

He leaned back, nodding, pulling his cap down so only his grin showed. "Yeah, has been for the last forty years. You'd think he'd have the decency to give up already and let someone new in, but I think he's gonna hold on till he kicks the bucket. Doesn't act like an eighty year old should."

I think my jaw hit the floor. " _He's eighty years old_?"

His grin grew wider. "Yeah, you usually picture them as doddering, doting grandpas, doing a whale or a scarecrow impression, right? Get this, the guy works out more than _I_ do."

I looked to the side, hair shading my eyes. "Not that that's saying much." He grumbled, and I hid a shy smile. Was everybody who worked here so nice? When I looked back he was once again eying me, seriously this time. "You know, I expected you to be older. Never saw him bring a teen for a statement, at least not so soon. Usually he gives you guys time to angst."

Scratch that thought. I rolled my eyes, "Sure. Would you mind telling me where I can find him?"

He stood, ponderously, with great weight; half affected atmosphere, the other half his actual gut. "Milady, the Labyrinth of Crete is a perilous place. I will guide you, but finding your way out is more perilous yet, and I cannot help you with that endeavor. Instead, I give to you this spool of magical thread. Tie it upon an upturned rock; so that once you find the beast, you may so exit." He bowed, holding out a ribbon spool, green, with snowmen on it. I didn't know how to respond to his butchered literature, so I just stared. It was starting to get pretty awkward till I heard a snicker and turned around, seeing the officer on door duty cracking a _very_ suspicious yawn, facing away. I sighed, facing the genuflecting boar in blue. "I get it. I'll follow you."

He just smiled at me, chuckled, and motioned for me to follow, completely at ease. I spent half the time checking out the building, half my guide. He was large, irascible, happy, and seemed determined to meet all the police stereotypes while still coming off as _likable._ He stopped for donuts two doors down, offering me one. I declined, still kind of wierded out. He was loud, obnoxious, and disrupted everyone else's work. No one seemed to mind all that much though, greeting him happily or with bemused resignation, except the guy who slammed his door as soon as we approached it, grumbling about rules, regulations, and opera. I wasn't sure how the last one fit. Jeff, the guy I was following according to all the grumbles, just shrugged. "New guy. Still got a stick up his a- er, behind. He'll come around soon enough."

In all honesty, I was glad for the distraction Jeff provided. It kept me from being nervous. Maybe he picked up on something, _that'_ s why he was acting out so much. Then again, nobody else seemed too surprised by his antics, though I heard plenty of snerks, snickers and chuckles not too long after we passed out of my _supposed_ hearing range. Before long we stood outside a plain door, only embellished with a plate of brass denoting name, rank, and number. I heard typing, the click-clack of fingers on keys like the tolling of a graveyard bell. Jeff stopped outside the door, knocking twice. It opened, Chief Villers stepping out, a tired but kindly smile on his face. "Hello Jeff. Who do you have here?"

He cleared his throat, grinning. "One Sierra-117, here to give her official statement." Chief Villers gave me a once over, looking somewhat exasperated. I shuffled awkwardly. He pinched his nose, exhaling. "Thanks Jeff, I'll take it from here."

Jeff grinned, saluting before plodding away. "Whatever you say, Chief."

Off- _Chief_ Villers opened the door waving me in. "You weren't the one who chose that outfit, were you? You seem rather uncomfortable."

I winced as I stood, fidgeting awkwardly. "No sir. This was Seka's insistence. Naoko's daughter."

He sighed, sitting down. "I figured as much, you seem rather uncomfortable, though that doesn't explain the whisker marks."

I cringed, hand raising reflexively. I should have felt makeup, a scar, an obstruction, _something._ It was only smooth skin. Washing didn't help either. "I'm somewhat attached to them."

His held my gaze a moment before nodding, lips curling in amusement. "Ah, I see. Well then, would I be able to get your name, or would you like to remain anonymous?"

"I would like to remain anonymous."

He opened his hand, revealing a recording device. "Then for the purpose of this interview we will refer to you by the codename 'Sierra'. Mind you we do not normally allow anonymous statements so if this happens in the future we will require your real name, but we make exceptions for a Parahuman incident." He turned on the device. "Now, what can you tell me about the hostage incident? Start at the beginning, your first recollections if possible, along with your age around seventeen I suppose?"

"I'm fifteen." He winced, hands knotting a bit before relaxing, gesturing for me to continue.

I took a breath, calming myself down, reviewing my story. "I was walking through the docks, exploring some abandoned houses, when two thugs came in, carrying a bound woman. They looked…"

x-x

Interlude 1: Chief of Police, Cedric Villers

I left my office, threading my way through the desks. It was rather quiet. Some calls followed me, but it was a lazy day at the office, kidnapping excepted. PRT took over much of the investigation since Parahumans were involved. Because I wasn't looking for any of them, no one paid me much mind. I reached the Records and Reports room, took a moment to compose myself, and then opened the door. Sunas looked up briefly before going back to sorting paperwork. "Chief Villers. Do you have the paperwork and the videos?"

"Yes. The statements are stacked in chronological order by person, the videos of our respective conversations in the same."

He mumbled, waving towards the drop off pile. Chuckling, I tapped him on his head, and he slowly returned to the real world." Buh?"

Sometimes I worry about that boy. I stooped down, trying for a soothing tone. "I'm sorry Sunas, but I'm afraid I'll actually need a little more from you. I need all footage that we might have of the site of the hostage situation and the clinic, going back as far as five hours before the kidnapping. I wish to personally investigate the situation."

His eyes snapped to me. For an instant, just an instant, I felt like I facing down Cerberus, the ruthless three headed dog at once evaluating, acknowledging and dismissing me. Then that moment ended and it was just Sunas, the thin middle-eastern desk jockey with his shaggy hair, haggard face, and an oddly resonant voice. He nodded, returning to what he did before. "I will have the copies in your office in half an hour."

I stood there, blinking, before shaking myself out of it. Too much coffee, too little sleep. I waved at Sunas, nodding as I left. "It has been a pleasure; keep up the good work and good luck with all that paperwork."

He glared balefully at it, like his gaze could light a fire. "This too must end."

x-x

What was I thinking? Check on my granddaughter, what for? She is perfectly capable of taking care of herself, the irascible nuisance.

"Grandpa, you said you'd show me your work _today_!"

I rubbed my forehead, trying to work out a knot. "I know honey, but next time, I promise." There was some static from the other end, some tumbling. I waited, and she eventually picked up her cell. "Though certainly not with _that_ attitude. Police work is serious business, the last thing we need is drama in the office."

"I know, it's just I…every time you say I can come _something_ comes up. A robbery, an investigation, something! I bet if there was a cat up a tree you'd find a way to use that as an excuse. Do you think I'm too young or what?"

Yes, and disruptive besides. "Heavens no. Why, just today I had a girl come in, your own age, play an integral part as a witness, helping identify the main perpetrators of a kidnapping. I have evidence she might have done more, even."

"Great. So maybe _I_ should go looking for trouble, getting involved in a crime seems _way_ faster than asking my grandpa, _the Chief of Police,_ to show me around the office." I tried to get a word in, but she cut me off, speaking in a high falsetto. "No grandpa I get it. ' _She'll mess something up. It's too dark, it's too dangerous, and she's fragile.'_ That's what you're thinking, right?"

Strong willed like her mother, quick of tongue like her father. Such a frustrating granddaughter. She would bloom to be quite the rose, but for now I could only see thorns, fresh and prickly with youth. "Hun, that's not-"

"Grandpa. I get it really. Really I do. Something bad, something _similar_ happened to me, and now you're scared how I'll react. I'll be fine. If anything, I _need_ this. I can't be a Hero, not a real one, not with powers. I want to get as close as I can, to help them like they helped me, to lock away the criminals for good. I want to represent the people who aren't parahumans, but aren't _sheep,_ willing to stick their neck out to make a difference. I want to be like the PRT, like the police. Grandpa, I want to be like _you._ "

I said nothing, waiting for her breathing to slow, for her to calm down. The silence stretched on, then-

"Sorry."

Grinning, I took a small draft of coffee. A little too hot. She had her heart in the right place at least. "Don't worry, my feelings weren't hurt. Though your comment on sheep was a little over the top. Not everyone wants to fight crime for a living. However, I didn't know you felt so strongly about this. Perhaps I've been a little inconsiderate of you, but truthfully, everyone is busy today. Besides Jeff." She cursed, and then paused. "Wait! You _never_ pick up when you're _really_ busy, so you've _got_ to be free. Can I come over, just for a bit, please? You're people are working on something _big._ I won't interfere, at all! I'll be quiet and keep to myself, I just want to watch."

I blew on my coffee, staring at the screen. "Sorry sweetie, but it's getting late, and you have school in the morning. How about I show you the workspace tomorrow, hmm? I'll make that a Villers promise. We're still working at uncovering a kidnapper-turned-assassin." Her grumbling turned happy, and my grin downright malicious. "But if you want, I could _text_ you the details right now."

She groaned, I smiled. "Thanks Grandpa, but it might be better- I mean, you've had a hard day. I wouldn't want to take up your time when you're _obviously_ busy. Maybe some other time?"

I sighed as forlornly as possible. "If you're sure hun, your old gramps isn't out of the technological arms race yet! Love you, and don't forget to study. Your mother _did_ tell me about that test you know."

"Yeah yeah...talk to you later grandpa." She hung up. I sent a quick text to Zoe to check up on her, lacking any of the slang or emoticons our little rose was so afraid of. That granddaughter of mine loves to procrastinate. Much like her mother. I sent another to my errant son-in-law.

I turned back to my computer, staring at my screen. Fascinating.

Checking further around the abandoned docks didn't reveal anything suspicious. At least criminally, not in or around that particular building. However, it didn't reveal any Asian teens out exploring. Instead what appeared to be a curly haired Caucasian girl wearing grey sweats and hoodie, along with a purple backpack with a frayed strap. While such clothes were common in the worse neighborhoods in Brockton Bay, the backpack was nearly identical to what my mysterious Sierra carried. I zoomed in. Fraying on the left side, and what appeared to be a Protectorate logo. The grainy footage made it harder to tell. I zoomed in on the face of the girl.

Who looked _oddly_ familiar, come to think of it.

I checked my photos on a hunch. Sixty odd years of police work taught me to trust them. I came across the one I was looking for. About three years ago my granddaughter, a cheery redhead, stood beside an awkward looking curly haired brunette. Her pose was nearly identical to Sierra's when she was embarrassed. Legs close, hands behind her back, one gripping her elbow, head down, hiding behind her hair. Best friends scrawled across the back in red, followed by the messy little signatures of children. Or people who signed too much paperwork. Well, without better resolution I couldn't be sure, and it wasn't part of the case, but... Smiling, I picked up the phone.

I joined the police force for a bit of mystery. An adventure, if you will. As I grew older it became more of a job, a responsibility, yet a passion nonetheless. I may be getting a little long in the tooth, but that youthful part of me that cheered at the adventures of Sherlock survived. Thrived even, what with the advent of Capes.

If I was wrong, well, then I was wrong. It would be a harmless bit of fun. I would even get to thank her in person; god knows she needed some extra source of confidence. I would also be letting my granddaughter aid in an 'investigation', leaving her none the wiser. Excellent! I felt a grin forming as I reached for my phone, a little thrill of excitement.

"Hey gramps."

"Hello hun, how would you feel about giving your dear old gramps a tour of your school?" -

x-x

Foxfire 1.4

After the settlement with Winslow High I expected school to go a little better, bullying a little lighter. Subtle jabs instead of outright barbs, getting tripped in the hall, nothing big. But this? This is just _eerie._

Mr. Gladly was talking about Rogues and their place in society. Interesting, especially now, but…

I glanced around surreptitiously, peaking at Madison, part of the main trio of bullies plaguing me at school. She ignored me, chatting happily with my friends. I'd ran into her earlier on accident, feeling a little off balance. I hadn't noticed the day before but I'd been moving with an almost _preternatural_ grace. Changing back had been a bit of a shock. Oh, I'm not any less coordinated than I used to be, but it was just the dichotomy between my body moving how I wanted, _where_ I wanted, and the little fumbles I made every day. No big deal, just had to remember my limits.

Still, I expected to be punished for that somehow. For Sophia to show up, jostling me. Maybe Emma to start tearing into me, for Madison to turn this against somehow, get me detention. Honestly that fall gave her _much_ more to work with than usual, but she didn't do anything. Her expression had soured, hands forming into claws, but she stopped. Brushing me off, ignoring me. That was two hours ago.

I palmed my pepper spray, eying a head of red hair.

What is Emma even _doing_ here? This isn't her class. One of her stomping grounds sure, but she has world history right now, not parahuman studies. But she had been here from the start, calmly walking in and taking a seat, striking up a conversation with Madison like nothings the matter.

Mr. Gladly didn't even bat an eye as he walked in. No one questioned it. Did I miss something in my stay at the hospital? Something important? Is _everyone_ in on this? Some kind of conspiracy to screw me over, flaunt the fact that the person, _people_ who locked me in a _fucking_ locker were running free, putting them in my classes? Is this to make some kind of _point?_

Gladly was still talking and I tried to tune in but I kept getting distracted, eyes returning to watch Emma and Madison. This wasn't working. I raised my hand straight up. Gladly kept talking for a while, finishing whatever point he was making. I didn't pay attention. He finally looked my way. His gaze was normal, tone even. "Yes Taylor?"

"Can I get a pass for the bathroom?"

He smiled, going behind my desk, passing me the slip of paper. "Of course. Don't take too long, were getting to the interesting part." Then he turned, facing the rest of the class. "Now according to the Parahuman Response Team's founding charter…"

I turned, leaving. No one called after me. There were no shifty looks, no extended legs and no painful whisperings.

I made a beeline for the bathroom, keeping my head down. No Sophia waiting to jump me. No gaggle of girls to intercept me. It made me nervous.

There's no way they would let me off this easily. Especially not after hospitalizing me, getting away pretty much scotch free.

I reached the bathroom and splashed my face with some water. There wasn't anything to clean, but it helped me calm down, helped me center myself. I turned towards the door, half expecting someone to jump in, spray me with something. Nothing.

I breathed, unclenching my hands, trying to relax. Calm down. They were being reprimanded, the school supposedly cracking down on them, looking out for me. The bullying is finally ending. No reason to be suspicious. Besides, I'm a Hero now. If they come after me, I can take them. I won't go after them, but…

The locker won't happen again. It _won't._

I stared at the door a second before shaking myself, heading back to class. Worrying wouldn't do me any good. If they aren't going to jump me, good. If they are I could tell the faculty and hope they actually _did_ something about it. They didn't last year, but there's still a chance they will.

Not that I have my hopes up. I kept my head down, rounding the corner.

Which is how I found myself on the floor, blinking, fumbling for my glasses.

"Ah, terribly sorry, hear you coming around that corner, my senses aren't what they used to be. Here, let me help you."

I nodded, relief flowing through me as he handed me my glasses. I started rubbing them with my shirt, trying to clean some of the grime off. "No worries, I should have been paying more attention."

"Not so Sierra. I'm sure you have much on your mind. Your previous day was very hectic after all."

I stopped, blinked, and quickly brought my glasses to my face. Chief Villers stood there, an impish smile on his lined face, green eyes dancing. This explains the bullies' good behavior, but what is he even doing here? And _what_ did he just say? Maybe it was just a slip of the tongue. "I have no idea what you're talking about. I spent the last few days at my home, resting."

He nodded, humming, eying my backpack. I turned, shifting it behind me. Maybe not just a slip. I should have accepted Seka's offer for a new backpack. Stupid of me, using the same one all yesterday and then bringing it to school. Still, I look _nothing_ like when he last saw me. "Really? My apologies. It's just that you seem so alike."

I stepped back, breaking out in a cold sweat. "Look, I have no idea who this Sierra person is. My name is Taylor Hebert. Does she look like me or something?"

"Not quite, but similar in spirit I believe."

"I _really_ think you have the wrong person. I'm not heroic, not at all."

He shook his head. "Sorry Ms. Hebert, but I'm not so sure myself. "He just stood there with this confident gaze grandfatherly smile, his words and expression utterly at odds with his actions. I checked him for any hidden aggressive body language, a twist of his lips, a clenched muscle, a devious look, something _villainous._

He's exposing my identity. You don't _do_ that. The people who expose a Parahuman's identity don't last long because everyone else hunts them down. Why is he doing this? What did he have to gain? Blackmail? It didn't fit the impression I had from his yesterday. Chief Villers gave me the impression of a hardworking, law abiding, kindly old man. When I grew up, I wanted to _be_ like him. Still working, still fighting, still making a difference. Cleaning up the town. Helping the people. Actually _doing his job._ One of the few authority figures In the past few years I felt I could _respect_.

Then again, I'd already been betrayed by Emma, my best friend for years. Compared to years of bullying, verbal abuse and being _hospitalized_ by her hands, I've experienced worse. Honestly, this is tame by comparison. It shouldn't matter as much. I should have been used to it by now. I made a show of glancing around the hallway, making sure there was no one around, buying me time to think.

How the hell did he even find out? Is he a Thinker? A backpack alone is _pretty_ thin information to go on, especially when 'Taylor' and 'Sierra' look _nothing_ alike, but he seems so sure. I'd seen Sophia on my bus ride back home from the police station. She was sitting in the back and glanced at me. I had flashed her a grin then did my best to ignore her, glancing at the mirror every once in a while. Every time I did her gaze was boring a hole in the back of my head. Did she somehow make the connection? Body language, backpack, word choice? Did she stalk me home, see me transform? I thought I was hidden but could certainly see her doing that, exposing my identity as well. Did she put Villers up to this?

I pulled on my well of energy to steady myself with. It caressed my mind, pushing some of my worries back, letting me focus on the situation. I felt my thoughts crystalize, come to the situation at hand. I'd found out I could do this without transforming last night, experimenting as my dad slept.

In all honesty, my position is better than usual. The reason Emma gets away with what she does because the whole school is behind her. There are never any witnesses when she abuses me, no friends to take my side, no teachers that take me seriously. She's too entrenched, too popular, and there's never any evidence.

It would be the opposite if he chose to reveal my identity. Even though he is Chief of the Brockton Bay Police Department, he wouldn't be able to get away with outing me. People more important than him have been _killed_ for this. The public opinion _always_ went in favor of the exposed. It wouldn't help me if he actually went ahead and exposed me, but it would give me leverage. His life versus my identity. Whatever he wanted he would only get partial influence over me, and I would gain some over _him._ I just have to use it, make the first move. Take control.

I've dealt with worse. I can deal with this. I faced him, straightening, motioning towards an empty classroom with a blind camera. I'd been ambushed there often enough. He frowned, looking somewhat confused, but joined me. I took a moment to steady myself. " _Fine._ Just…make your demands already. Make it quick."

He frowned. "I beg your pardon?"

"You heard me. Tell me your demands. Isn't that why you threaten to expose a capes identity? Blackmail? Or is just another bullying attempt? How the trio escalate past the locker, outing me as a cape?"

He blinked, staring at me a second. His expression shocked, aghast. "Is _that_ what you think this is? A blackmail attempt? Exposing your identity? Some kind of bullying campaign?"

I glared at him. "You mean it's _not?_ Then why were you so insistent, not letting the matter go? How did you even find out? The trio are the only ones who could connect me to 'Sierra', who _would_ connect me, and _tell_ you about it _."_

He frowned. "Ms. Hebert, I assure you that is not the case. I was merely curious. I had no prior information of our identity, no ulterior motive. I called you Sierra on a whim to confirm a hunch, nothing more, your reaction provided confirmation. But that's not as important. Escalation? Bullying campaign? Would you be able to provide me with details? I can help."

My eyes burned as I stood still, staring. Maybe he is telling the truth? Maybe he can help me? He didn't look like he was lying, like he was just covering his bases. He looked worried, wrinkles coming together. They made him look older, his actual age. "Ms. Hebert? Are you alright?"

I looked away, gritting my teeth. No way to be sure. Better to say nothing.

He kept trying, persistent.

"Ms. Hebe…Taylor. Look at me, please. Tell me, what's wrong?" He moved, back in my line of sight. I looked to my left. He moved there, patient, waiting. I let out a breath, shaky, trembling, but didn't look away.

He looked at me a moment before his expression morphed, becoming soft, gentle. "I'm sorry if I came across as intrusive or aggressive. This isn't part of any bullying campaign, not an attempt at blackmail. Taylor, I was just trying to give you a _compliment_ , comparing you to a very brave girl I met the other day." He paused, leaning down. Not much, but enough that his eyes were level with mine. "Without her help someone could have died. She is a very brave, very intelligent young woman, full of determination and strength. You just remind me of her somehow. Why, it's almost as if we met before! And even if someone gave out your identity, I wouldn't 'out you.'" He winked, flashing a conspiratorial grin. "I would _never_ betray the anonymity of a witness."

A witness? Wha-

My mouth twitched. I snorted, laughed before I covered my mouth with my hands, keeping it in. I tried to keep quiet, to stop it but it was just so _ridiculous_ so I crouched down, laughing quietly into my hands. I devolved to a fit of giggles. Tears flowed down my face as my eyes stopped burning. My giggles turned to hiccups and he was there, warm hand on my shoulder, whispering comfortingly in my ear. I couldn't see him, couldn't really understand what he was saying but it was soft, soothing and helped me calm down. I finally stopped, hiccups petering out and just sat there for a second, leaning against the wall. It lasted for a while before Officer Villers stood up, offering me a hand. I stared a second before taking it, pulling myself up. My limbs were shaky, a sort of pins and needles feeling, but my head felt clearer than it had in _so_ long. "Ah, thanks for the help."

He chuckled. "Oh, there was no problem. Consider this my apology for being such a busybody. Really, I should have realized that possibly outing a 'witness' would be a possibly traumatic experience, but the thrill of solving a mystery made me blind. Are you feeling better now?"

I smiled at him, wiping some of my tears away, getting the water out of my hair. "Yeah. Much better actually."

He smiled back. "Good! I really didn't expect such an extreme reaction, but you must have been holding something in rather fiercely. Sometimes you just need an outlet." He glanced at the clock. "Well, it looks like I had better get moving; I promised my dear granddaughter I would give a presentation today. Really, she's such a handful. This was supposed to be my lunch hour! Still, she's sitting in a class she normally has at a later period, waiting for me. Best not be too late, wouldn't want to embarrass her."

I sniffed, mopping up the rest of the liquid on my face with a nearby tissue. "Yeah, I need to get back to class. This is only supposed to be a ten minute pass. It's been fifteen by now."

He shook his head woefully. "Time is a commodity, one it seems I'm fast running out of. Come, let's get going." He began to move towards the door before he paused, stopping. "Ah, you will be filling me in with the details on your bullying, correct? I would rather have something to work with before I start the investigation."

Nodding, I made my towards the door. "I have a fold filled with names, emails, and incidents that I have kept for the last year and a half. I could get it after class, bring it to the police station?"

He smiled as he left. "Excellent!" We both filed out, heading in the same direction down the halls. We didn't talk but it was a comfortable silence. I fiddled with a thread on my sleeve, as we got closer to the classroom. Chief Villers held out a hand, turning towards me. "You're heading back to class 3B? Parahuman Studies with Mr. Gladly?"

"Yes. Why?"

He looked at me mischievously. "Well, that happens to be the classroom I'm presenting in, on Parahumans and their impact on law enforcement. Just to warn you, there will be a small surprise at the beginning."

"I think I can handle it." Chief Villers made his way to the back of my class. I handed Gladly my pass and made my way to my seat, still feeling that small buzz, that little happy glow. I had forgotten how it felt to just _relax._ Emma start making her way to the front of the class, but this didn't hold my attention. Taking out a paper I began to doodle down ideas for my costume for when I go out heroing. Maybe something with armor? I'm fast but relatively fragile after transformation. Hmm…

Gladly stood up, clearing his throat. "Eyes up front people, we have a special guest today." He nodded to Emma as she walked up to the podium. So _that's_ why she was here. She was going to look substandard compared to Chief Villers though, maybe bruise her ego. I doodled down a cage, putting a stick figure with red hair inside. She waved at the class. "Hey guys! So as you all know, Parahumans have changed a lot of how local law enforcement works. Villains are just too powerful for normal Police to handle so they switched roles. Rules were created and organizations like the PRT, the Protectorate and the Wards were created to deal with the sudden influx of super powerful people. However, far from being useless, the Police were worked into this structure, no less important than they had been, just more specialized."

She turned around, as she smiled at the entire class in turn, gaze settling on me. I smiled right back, pencil still working my paper. She couldn't affect me now. She would be behind bars soon enough, or at least expelled. Her smile wavered a bit but didn't falter. She coughed and looked away, motioning to the back. "While all of us here know about this, it's one thing to read and another to experience. Here to give us some insight on what actually happened is an eighty year old Police Veteran, my Grandfather, Chief Cedric Villers!"

x-x

So yeah, more on the way, just have to format them into chapters right now. Mostly in snippets.


	2. Chapter 2

Foxfire 2.1

I stood up, grabbed my bag, and left the classroom. Mr. Gladly called after me, but I didn't care.

I turned the corner, breaking into a run. Running down the corridor I brushed into the security guard. He barely spared me a glance. As I exited the building I reached up, pulling my hood over my head, sweat beading down my forehead, gasping for breath.

I was in the hospital just a few days ago. Really, my low endurance should have been expected. Glancing around i began to slow, panting. A small paperback book stores caught my eye, elderly shop attendant snoozing with a cap on his face. I walked past on my way towards his bathroom. He didn't look up. I took the time to transform, change clothes, and get out. He didn't notice, and no one else entered.

Really, I should be thankful Seka left me even one practical change of clothes. A fair imitation of what I wore on my day out, just sized differently. It was made to fold easily, fit in small spaces. Like my backpack.

I began to head towards the docks, walking at first before breaking into a run. My motions felt smooth, easy, with none of the fatigue or pain that plagued me since the locker. My feet slapped the ground, my breath fogged the air. In, out. In, out. Their steady rhythm calmed me, lulling me into a brief sense of peace. I just kept moving, kept running, slowly losing track of time. Then something caught my eye.

Slowing to a stop I turned towards the house. The door hung loose, wood damp and rotting. Rickety windows riddled with holes, creaking in the wind. One wall had a gaping hole blown through it. Ducking my head I moved closer, looking down at a familiar broken door. Unrecognizable to most, but the spyhole was one of the few things not blown to pieces. A small piece of silver caught my eye. Reaching down, I picked it up. An earring with the number 88, set in a stylized wolfs fang, spattered with bits of blood. One of Mark's.

Well, at least I know how he got away.

I heard a rustle. If I had fox ears, they would have twitched. "Whose there?" I called, looking into the darkness. A man stepped out, clad in the streamlined white armor of a PRT Captain. He walked up, tilting his head.

"I should be asking you that," he said, shaking his head. His voice sounded vaguely familiar. "I'm here on official PRT business, and this whole block should be cordoned off. How did you get in?"

"There was a cordon?" I said, blinking, mentally backpedaling. "I didn't _see_ anyone, just a line of tape. I ah, might have jumped over it; I wasn't really paying attention, just running. And I was just curious is all, it's not every day you see a house with a hole blown through it."

He snorted, shaking his head. "Really? You must either be sheltered, or new to town."

"Uh, not really, I've lived here all my life," I said, looking away. "I just try to avoid crime zones. It's safer that way."

"Well, I'd like to amend my prior statement. Not sheltered, just smart." He said, grunting in approval. "Though it looks like you made a wrong turn today, this area is pretty big on crime. Say, which direction did you come from?"

"North west from here," I said, gesturing towards the road. "I passed Legend's Lagoon on the way over."

"Ah, that would explain it. That's probably where John is, 'keeping an eye on things.' I'll have to call him out for that," he grumbled, breathing out a sigh. "Then again, I can't really blame the man. There's nothing to find here that the police haven't gotten, and they already passed us everything." He tapped his foot thoughtfully, cocking his head. I heard the babble of a radio, but couldn't make the words out. "Well, my shifts almost over. Say," he said, turning to me. "I know this great little place nearby called Goonie's. Good food, great drinks, nice atmosphere. How about we go catch a bite for lunch?"

"I don't really have any money right now," I said regretfully, trying to ignore my stomachs grumblings. I'd forgotten about missing my paid school lunch till now. I check my watch. Lunch was thirty minutes ago, and my body was letting me know its displeasure. "And wouldn't you get in trouble for abandoning your post?"

"Hey, don't worry about the money. This job pays more than enough. If I wanted to I could treat someone out every day of the week, and _still_ have plenty left over. Really, I don't know what to do with most of it. Besides," he said, tapping his radio, "My replacement just arrived. I'm off the clock as of…now!"

I blinked. He would pay for the meal? "Are you sure about this? I mean, you'd treat me, a complete stranger out? And at _Goonie's?_ " I said, staring at him in askance. He waved me down casually as he removed his tinkertech armguards.

"It's no big deal, I could use the company. And I have the excess money, might as well spend it, right?" he said, starting to remove the rest of his armor. I looked away, blushing. He laughed, words floated over with an audible grin. "You know I'm fully clothed under this, right? I wouldn't be changing if I wasn't."

Right. "I knew that," I said, turning to face him. He grinned, shrugging the rest of his armor off. Underneath he was wearing some nice jeans and a white shirt, snug beneath a blue denim jacket. A he pushed his upper armor off the shirt slipped a bit, revealing one of those ultra-thin tinkertech bullet proof vests. I tilted my head, curious. "You know, you're only the second person I've seen wearing a vest like that."

"Really?" he said, packing his armor. "It's pretty common if you're ex-military, these tinkertech vests are a godsend. They've saved my life more times than I care to count." He winced slightly as he stood, favoring his side. "They don't protect you from everything though. By the time I'm thirty I'll be complaining about more aches and pains than someone in their sixties. Goes with the job I guess."

He steadied himself, walking towards me, hand extended. "We haven't been properly introduced. Let's fix that, hmm? The names Don," he said, hand extended.

"My names Tay- er, Tays," I said, taking his hand after a moment's hesitation. "Pleased to meet you."

"Likewise," he said, moving towards the road, motioning me to follow. We reached the bright yellow police tape, flattened on the ground. His eye twitched when he saw that, twitching harder as he glared at Legend's Lagoon. He sighed, hand going to a pocket in his jacket, eying the building sourly. I stopped, waiting for him.

"Are you okay?" I said, raising a brow. He shook himself a bit before nodding, continuing on in my direction.

"I'm fine," he said, walking up beside me. "I'm just tired of dealing with incompetents lately is all." We reached Goonie's and took a seat. He flagged down a waiter, picking up a menu. "So you'll take the chai tea, right?"

"Yeah," I mumbled, eying all the choices. Crab. I haven't had crab in _forever._ Dad hadn't been able to pay for it lately. I felt a twinge of guilt, resolving to bring him some leftovers. I'd tell him someone at school gave it to me. Hah. "How'd you know?"

He smiled, fingers tracing the menu. "Oh, just a guess."

x-x

Foxfire 2.2

The talk had been informative, though at times I feared it would end quickly. It's not like I had much to say, and was willing to say any less, but whenever I clammed up or looked away he just seemed to smile, though eventually he had me fully engaged. It's not every day you get to talk to a PRT Captain. It took a bit, but I managed to steer the conversation to independent heroes and vigilantes, asking question after avid question, even if he couldn't talk about the PRT itself. "Classified," he said.

Now that I think about it, I've probably talked more in the past few days than I have in the last _year_.

Listening to his firsthand account was enjoyable. He had some interesting stories to tell and he was _great_ at it. His voice changed on a whim, portraying piping young children to growling villains. His actions reflected the role as he spoke, the hunched visage of a monster or brave stance of a hero. I honestly have no idea how he pulled that off in a restaurant booth. If he wasn't in the PRT, I would have taken him for an actor, though his stories stopped a while ago, much to my disappointment. Instead, he kept up a running game of 'what if.'

"What if," he said, taking the thinker pose, "You were in the Protectorate?"

"The Protectorate?" I echoed, shaking my head. "I'm not old enough for that yet. I'd be in the Wards. And uh, I'd probably go out saving lives, cleaning up the docks, trying to push out the gangs. But I'd need a costume first. And powers," I said as an afterthought. Raising my head and, wait…

"Is something wrong?" I said, titling my head. Don's expression remained still as he slowly brought his cup down from his lips, setting it down carefully.

"How old are you?" he asked, expression strange.

"Fifteen?" I said, coming out more like a question. He stared at me in disbelief before leaning back, sighing explosively. It couldn't have been that surprising, right?

He massaged his head, looking at me apologetically. "Look, this was fun. Your great company and some nice conversation but I'm sorry, your just too young."

Wha- oh. Oh. _Oh._ "Wait, you thought that I'm an adult? That this is a _date?"_

"What was I supposed to think," he said, raising his hands, "At this time of day you're supposed to be in _school._ You don't even look fifteen! And what part of this _wasn't_ a date?"

"I wouldn't know," I said, glaring at him. "I've never _been_ on one."

"Really?" he said, staring at me intently.

" _Yes!"_

Don studied me for a second before he backed off, waving away the startled waiter. A few of the groups nearby were staring at us, but they went back to their business soon enough. "Sorry about that," he said apologetically, tousling his brown hair. "I jumped to conclusions, said some harsh things. Are you okay?"

"Yeah," I said, subdued. "I mean, it was fun! But I just thought, well…"

He raised a hand, cutting me off. "Look, I didn't just take you out because I thought you were available. I thought you were _interesting,_ fun to talk to. Not many explore abandoned houses in their spare time, especially not when there are signs of violence. You did so on a lark, and it piqued my curiosity. You're a brave, intelligent young woman. Believe in yourself a little more." He smiled gently at me as he reached forwards, gently taking my hand, neatly enveloping it. It felt warm. "Maybe we could do this again sometime? Not a date, but similar. With less dinner and drama, just talking."

I nodded, blushing, staring down at his hand. "Yeah. I ah, I'd like that."

"Yo! What's happening over here?"

I turned, quickly slipping my hand out of Don's grasp. "Seka! What are you doing here?" I questioned, eying the man she brought with him. Possibly the biggest Asian I've seen, he dwarfed Don by quite a bit. Broader to Don's martial artist's figure, but with just as much fat. His walk remained relaxed, confident as he walked over, following Seka. She grinned, scooting me over in my seat.

"Relax," she said, blue eyes flashing as she picked a leg of my crab, cracking it open. "Me and Kenta are just here to eat, enjoy the sights you know? I've only got to Brockton recently, heard good things about this place." She sucked on the crab, eyes going wide. "Mmm. This is good!"

"Yes," I said, sighing mournfully as the crab disappeared. There went Dad's portion. "Yes it is."

Seka nudged me with her shoulder, winking. "So, you going to introduce me to your boyfriend or what?" she said, hand reaching for another leg.

"Oh, I'm not her boyfriend. A little too old for her I'm afraid. We were just talking, relaxing," he said, chuckling as he reached for the bill. "Here, let me take care of this. I need to go make a quick phone call, how about you guys catch up? Your obviously friends here, I wouldn't want to intrude. Goodbye Tays, hopefully we'll bump into each other sometime soon." He winked at me and Seka, gave Kenta a nod, and left. Kenta sat down, making himself at home, making a grab for a leg of crab. Seka turned towards me, gaze mischievous. "So. _Tays,._ " she said, winking.

I winced, clearing my throat. "So, what are you two _really_ up to?" I said, staring pointedly at Seka. She grinned, but Kenta answered.

"Discussing protection, for her and her mother," he said in a deep, commanding voice. "The Protectorate and PRT are not enough. I am here as…insurance."

"So…you're a bodyguard?" I said, gulping as he bared his teeth.

"Bodyguard?" he said, rolling the word on his tongue. His expression said he found it distasteful. "Nothing as such. I am more an investigator, going directly for the source."

"Yeah," Seka said, munching on the last leg of crab. "You could say that everyone at this table is directly suited for such an 'investigation.'" Kenta and I looked at each other curiously at that, his gaze appraising. Seka continued," Hell, I didn't plan on this, but what would you say to...joining in?"

"You mean…help you investigate? Make a difference?" I said, staring at her, becoming aware of a tingle starting from the edges of my fingers, moving to cover the rest of me.

"Yeah, but it's really more of _his_ gig. He's the boss man here, I'm just a client," she said, jerking her head towards Kenta. "You'd be like that too. No pressure or anything, just helping whenever you can, a chance to get back at those assholes."

"I'd like that," I said, nodding eagerly. Kenta grunted in approval, standing up as he made his way to the door. Seka jerked my head and followed, with me trailing behind. Don stood out front, leaning against a flagpole. He waved and I stopped, hearing the tail end of his conversation.

"Yeah it didn't, she's too young. Shame really, thought we really had something," he said, winking at me as I turned to face away, smiling as I walked. "Still, she's an interesting person, I might hang around her a bit. Who knows, she might even have a sister!"

x-x

Foxfire 2.3

I ran, catching up with Seka. Kenta lead the way, long strides eating the ground. I made to run to catch up, but Seka caught my arm. "Hey now, wait a sec. Give him some distance. I need to clear up some misunderstandings. Don't worry about losing him; I know where we're going. "

"Okay?" I said, tilting my head. We lagged behind a bit, streets emptying as we walked towards the worse parts of the docks. It was almost exactly the route Don and I took on our way towards Goonie's. "So, what do you need to clear up?"

"Look, it's pretty obvious you think this is a capes only club, some kind of superhero intervention or something," she said, stopping, speaking in a whisper. I leaned in closer. " _Don't._ As far as Kenta knows, you're just a girl who got caught up in the crime. Don't do anything stupid to tell him otherwise."

"What?" I said, disappointed and confused. "You mean it's not?"

"No. _Fuck_ no. If I were introducing you to other capes, it would be in costume," she said, looking at me strangely. "I'm no snitch, wouldn't reveal your identity like that. No, this is an _actual_ investigation. Amateur detective style. We're going in, checking out the scene of the crime, and seeing what we can find. I asked you along because you were _there_ when it happened, and you can tell us more. The Police didn't tell me jack squat."

"Ah," I said, chagrined. Sometimes I forget about how important secret identities are to capes. Not when mine is so bulletproof. Wincing, I pushed my thoughts of Villers away. Considering that Seka thinks this is my _actual_ form, it would make sense she was being careful. Much more careful than I would be. "So, Kenta's an actual investigator?"

"Hell no," she said, snorting. "Let's just say the guy deals with this kind of work a lot and leave it at that huh?" I stared at Kenta's back, quickly reevaluating my opinion.

"How dangerous is he?" I said, reaching for the comfort of my fire.

"Pissing him off would probably be worse than pissing off the Protectorate. He doesn't have as much reach, but he's the type that tends to deal with problems, sometimes _permanently_. He's got some clear lines though, so as long as you don't cross him your fine," she said, starting towards him again at a slow walk. "Don't piss him off, don't step on his toes, don't fuck with his operations and your fine. At the same time, he _likes_ it when people show some backbone. If you don't, he won't respect you."

"Ah," I said, moving closer, speaking under my breath, "Then why involve him at all?You already have safer options. I mean, the Police and the PRT are already on the case, guarding your mother as well."

"See, that's the issue. The _government agencies_ are on the case. Even if they find something, do you know how long it would take them to act on it? They've got all this yellow tape to work through, they're too removed. It would take them a heck of a long time to craft a response once they've come to a conclusion about whoever did this," she said, kicking a nearby rock. "It doesn't matter if their guarding Mom, they can't stop a snipers bullet, can they? That's all it would take once she's out in the open. Kenta's got the experience to figure out who did this, the muscle to deal with the perps, and the ruthlessness to see things through."

"So you call in some kind of _crime lord?_ That's what you're making him sound like," I said, gesturing at his back. He kept moving, calm, relaxed, giving no indication something was amiss.

"He kind of is one, but one with a penchance for helping out folks in his territory. Or at least fighting a common enemy, "she said, gesturing vaguely towards the area we came from. "People back there aren't really any worse off than they were before he came. Hell, maybe even better. There's less infighting with a problem solver like him around, a set rule if you will. All I know about the perps is they tried to kill mom. Better the devil you know than the devil you don't. " She started moving faster, Kenta motioning us over. I followed, walking somewhat reluctantly. We got there, standing in front of the house. The tape on the ground had been removed.

"What caused this hole?" he said, gesturing towards the wall.

"I'm…not sure, actually," I said, tapping my foot. He moved to face me and I took a reflexive step back. He snorted, shaking his head in amusement, but didn't comment. "I, uh, wasn't conscious when it happened."

"Then tell me who you think caused this. Who was in position to," he said, tapping a foot.

"An empire thug named Mark, probably trying to escape," I said, raising a hand. "About this tall, half his head shaved, tattoo of an 88. He was fidgety, nervous. Had a lot of silver jewelry, like this." I held out the earring. He ignored it, focusing back on the wall.

"Was he carrying anything that could have done this?" he said, gazing at me.

"I'm not sure," I said, meeting his gaze. "I wasn't really in a position to see. He had a gun though, wore a weapons belt."

He nodded, saying "Could the cape, Foxfire have done this? The other man?"

"No," I said, hesitating. "Well, uh, I mean the I guess Foxfire _could_ have done it, but her fires were smaller I guess? She would only be able to break this much if she riddled the entire wall, and it still wouldn't have caused this kind of damage."

"Indeed," he said, grumping. "This is more consistent with a single explosive. Your earlier statement is likely correct, used to escape. There are drops of blood on the way out, though they stop soon. Odd. We will look into this later. Tell me of the other man."

"Okay," I said, pulling up my memory. "Tall and muscled from what I could tell. Not as tall as you, maybe an inch or two shorter? I didn't catch his name, so I just called him Jacket. He wore a black one, with a bulletproof vest underneath. I couldn't see any Empire motifs on him, but he was the one in contact with their boss. Uh, he had a gun, a few knives, along with _something_ that exploded, knocking me out near the end. He seemed really sure of himself, though he deferred to Mark's choices."

"Could he have caused this?" Kenta said, humming contemplatively.

" _Maybe_?" I said, thinking back. "I mean, at the end there he wasn't having the greatest time, struggling with Foxfire. His blows were looking pretty weak; I doubt he could have mustered the strength to throw a grenade. Pretty sure he used one point blank to knock her off of him."

"Well that's all fine and dandy, but we're learning next to nothing here. We should check it out, scope out the place," Seka said, stomping the ground, removing a few high-tech looking devices from her purse. "Right now we're just wasting time."

"We go in and they find us, we are rid of any deniability," Kenta said, cautioning her. His actions bellied his words as he moved steadily towards the house. "They will come after you."

"Yeah, yeah, I know." she said, following after him. "Figured it out way before I came here. I'm willing to take this risk." She paused, stopping, turning to face me. "You know, now would be a good time to back out if you want. You already helped out, no need to get more involved, you've helped enough. I'm already pretty deep in your debt, and you've got a lot to lose here."

Less than you, I thought, but didn't speak it aloud. Less than Kenta. Instead I shook my head, moving forwards. "I'm coming with you. I came to help, and I'm not backing out now." Especially not when I have less to lose. I couldn't call myself a Hero otherwise.

"Suit yourself," she said shrugging. "Don't worry though, I'm sure it'll all be fine. I got everything under control, and we got Kenta in case things go belly up. What could go wrong?"

x-x

Foxfire 2.4

"You know," I said, looking around, a little miffed, "When you said 'investigation,' I thought you meant something different _._ Not _this_." I don't know what I really expected, but picking through rubble wasn't it.

"What'd you expect? Spandex and Danger?" Seka asked, studying the hole in the wall, holding her white noise generator. In case of bugs, apparently.

"Yes," Kenta said, studying the wall I'd burned through. "Your help is greatly appreciated. Brave for a victim to come here again." Nodding towards him respectfully, I kept my distance. Don't know what to make of him. He seems helpful enough, polite, but from what Seka told me… Still, his constant calm put me at ease, made him easier to be around. I shook my head, watching Seka putter about.

"What's with all the precautions?" I asked, motioning towards her high-tech devices. What some of them did broke a few laws of physics, so I guess she is a tinker. Kenta hadn't even batted an eye when she pulled them out, so he must have been in on it. White noise that only disrupts electronic devices, ring like device to find active emissions, a few other odds and ends.

"You know, sometimes I think your stupid. Then I remember you're just ignorant," she said, shifting through some woodchips. I would have taken offence, but I really am. The closest I got to spying and investigation were my bullying notes. This is on an entirely different level. "You think whoever pulled this _cares_ whose doing the snooping? They already tried to off Mom for _money_. By playing spy we go from mark to _threat._ Do the math. "

I thought on that a second. " Not getting found out is really important, isn't it?"

"Your damn right it is," she said, fiddling with her gear.

"But why are we searching at all? It's pretty obvious the Empire is behind this." I said, holding up a piece of rubble. I was supposed to be using my advanced senses to find something, but as far as I could tell it was just a rotting piece of wood. I tossed it aside, picking up something else. "I mean, Mark was obvious enough, and I even found that earing." Picking it out of my pocket I held it up, fang shaped, bloody, the 88 engraving twisting through its grooves.

"They give those trinkets to anyone, member or potential," Kenta said, taking it from my hand. He turned it over, showing the base of the tooth. "There is no engraving. Not a serious member." He turned, tossing it over. I caught it, not sure what to make of his obvious dismissal.

"Mark didn't _seem_ like he wasn't Empire. He had plenty of tattoos and trinkets and he seemed to really buy their dogma." I said.

"A lesser member then, a wannabe. One with the most to prove. The Empire wouldn't send a man like him for an assassination." Kenta said, snorting.

"It was a kidnapping at first." I pointed out.

"More evidence to support my claim. Any fool can kill, a kidnapping takes planning and effort," he said, turning to Seka. I shuddered, beginning to see what she meant about him. For all his calm, he stated that like it was a fact of life. Like he'd _done_ it before. Exactly what 'problems' does he solve? "What have you found?"

"The blast is pretty consistent with Coil's better munitions. See how soft it is around the wood? Barely affects organic matter, wrecks hell on anything like steel or stone. Pretty good work," she said, tracing the sides with her finger. The latticework of wood protruding from the wall supported her claim. "This could have been a frame job, him trying to implicate the Empire somehow. He doesn't have much territory, but what he has is right outside their borders."

"Indeed," Kenta rumbled, nodding as he leaned back against a wall. "This would explain the skill of the other perpetrator, the one you call Jacket. Empire 88's rank and file lack quality, keeping their territory with their many capes."

"Coil?" I asked, turning towards Kenta. "Who is he? I've never really heard of him."

"Not surprising, he is careful, sneaky," he said, shaking his head. "Taking small bites when no one looks. A cowardly strategy, one that wouldn't make the news. He controls a paramilitary gang of mercenaries with good gear, tinkertech. They are veterans with combat experience, skilled, competent."

"That…actually sounds pretty accurate. Fits Jacket to a T." I said, nodding slowly. Kenta grunted in agreement.

"Aha!" Seka exclaimed, lifting something up. It was tiny, barely visible, a flat oval with a lens and a mottled covering. "Knew it! I fucking knew it! Smile folks, were on camera!" She tossed it to Kenta, who crushed it in his fingers, electronics sparking as they died. "Too bad the dumb shits forgot the wireless, means we have a chance. Get searching people, we got lives on the line here," she said, taking out a small orb, carefully placing it on the ground. It jolted, producing a constant electric buzz.

"Spread out and start looking, wouldn't want to give them any leads, eh? These things have been recording all day; probably got a slew of info someone would _love_ to get their hands on. The moving dots are us. Ignore them, go for the rest. This devise only shorts the bugs out for a bit, wouldn't be safe to use around people otherwise," she said, holding up three screens. "They should show up…shit there are a lot of them. Paranoid much?"

"How long do we have?" I said, looking over her shoulder. Red dots clustered on the little device, somewhere over twenty.

"Around four minutes, give or take," she said, waggling her hand back and forth. Kenta took a screen without a word, searching the ground floor. He found a bug, crushed it, and moved on. Twenty seconds. I followed his example.

We moved, quickly quietly, looking for bugs. We had their general location on the grid, but it took a while to find their hiding spots. Crushing another five took nearly a minute, taking longer with every bug. I heard something outside.

This isn't working.

"Were not going to make it at this rate." I said, turning towards Seka. "How long will it take your device to recharge?"

"It doesn't," she said, shrugging. "One time deal, takes a lot of energy to buzz this wide of an area _without_ frying anything. Would have been easier to light the whole place up, but that would remove any leads. Try to memorize where the dots are on the grid, and anything we don't get we can find later." Her words were nonchalant, but her pace frenzied, eyes wide. Kenta seemed less hurried, more methodical, but his jaw clenched, muscles strained.

"I could remove them all," he said, facing Seka. "It would be quick. These are fragile, easily broken."

"It would just draw more attention, send whoever's watching the area running for backup. Your too flashy," she said, shaking her head.

"Let them come," he rumbled, rising to his full height, muscles bulging. Taller than before? " However many they send will not matter. They will still break."

"Look," she said, changing tacks. "You're making a _way_ bigger deal out of this than you need to. The device may only last a few minutes, but we have _ages_ to clean up the rest, we already know where they are. Besides, what about _her?"_ She asked, jerking her head at me. Kenta never moved.

"A car pulled up two blocks away in that direction," he said, pointing towards the kitchen wall. "I hear them exit, moving here. Four people, no conversation." I started, focusing in. At the corners of my range, itself outside a human norm, I could hear what he spoke of. Footsteps on cement, eerily quiet in the backdrop. The rattle of metal on metal met my ears, calm breathing. Seka walked over, stomping down on the pile of bugs. They broke, metal scattering, sparks escaping. She kicked the remains, scatting them.

 _"_ _Shit!"_

"Yes. For your other question…" he said, pausing, turning towards me. "You can keep a secret, yes?"

It was pretty obvious what he was asking. Could I keep his identity secret. He was a cape, one capable of destroying all the bugs if he needed to in a 'flashy' way. He had also grown. Not much, barely noticeable in the dark, but it was there. Growth, blasting, some kind of Asian crime lord? Really only one person he could be. If it was this obvious to me, he probably knows that I know.

If I wanted to, I could out him at any time. I could call the police on him. I could call the PRT, the Protectorate on him. The _government_ would probably respond. Lung, the head of the ABB, is a major threat. A dragon of a man, the ruthless monster who ruled the docks, he took on the _entire_ local Protectorate, the government funded hero team, and _won._ I'm the Hero, he's the villain. Yet _he's_ the one entrusting _me_ , a complete stranger, with his identity, prepared to throw it on the line to save ours.

"Yeah, but I might have a better idea. One that would break the bugs _without_ calling a crowd. Kenta," I said, taking a breath. "Can you keep a secret?"

Compared to him, I have _nothing_ to lose. This face, this body, this voice, this isn't really _me._ A fake, a fabrication of my powers. If I needed to, I could talk to the same people, have as much fun _as myself._ Don said he wanted to hang out with me, not for my looks but my personality. If I outed this form, I could still make the same friends. Explain everything to Seka, to Naoko. Really, it would be all too easy without this form as a crutch. It's not like I would be losing anything. Right?

Right?

Kenta paused, staring at me a second before turning to Seka. "You did not tell me this," he growled, face calm.

"Hey, she-!"

"it is fine," he said, shaking his head. "It does not matter now." He turned to me, nodding. "I can. Go."

The timer on the device flashed, beeping. Thirty seconds left. Thirteen bugs to go.

Nodding, taking a breath, pushed the energy away and _changed._ The constant buzz of suppression disappeared, leaving feel _free._ Tails sprouted, ears grew and my gaze _sharpened._ I saw as if it was day, the small reflections of the lens standing out on their drab backdrop. I heard the hum of electricity, faint, but there. The energy that had been covering me coalesced, a translucent ball of shimmering energy, slightly smaller than a basketball. I called some into myself as the world slowed, seconds ticking like minutes. I moved.

Running past Seka and Kenta, their expressions of minor shock frozen, fast disappearing. Calling some fire to the tips of my tails, I sent some flying. Three down. I pulled more energy from my ball as it shrunk, keeping myself faster, sending out more waves of fire. Eight more down, none in sight. The device showed two, steadily beeping. Ten seconds left. Upstairs?

The footsteps grew closer.

Pulling more energy I _surged_ , flying up the stairs. There!

Time sped back up, the ball shrinking down. Barely more than a shiny bauble filled with strange patterns. I couldn't draw anymore.

I stopped, using the energy of the surge to _push,_ blasting the last few bugs apart. The energy disappeared, my senses dulling. Still incredibly sharp but everything was a bit duller, a bit dimmer. If there were any left, I wouldn't have been able to find them nearly as easy. I leaned against the wall, tails fanning behind me, trying to pull the energy around myself, become more human. It didn't work. Seka and Kenta came running up, pounding up the stairs.

"My my," I said, ears twitching, grinning widely. "A little late to the party, hmm?" I tossed my screen triumphantly, landing before Seka. She picked it up, looking at me strangely.

"You got them all?" she said.

"Of course," I said, carving a spiral in the wall with my nails. She nodded, swallowing a bit. Ah, I'm acting scary. Well then. I softened my grin, instantly changing it to a gentle smile. If anything, that seemed to scare her _more_. Kenta studied me, leaning against the wall.

"Ah, yeah," she said, looking me up and down. I could hear the outside footsteps approaching, making their way up the front porch. "Why havn't you changed back yet? We're almost in the clear."

"I lack essence," I said, shrugging as I tossed my softly glowing ball, glinting as it caught the light of the window. "Life essence. I used the majority of my borrowed essence while hunting the cameras, there is not enough left to turn human I'm afraid." She nodded, mouth shutting with a click. Kenta, in comparison, moved forwards.

"We do not have much time," he said, walking over, extending a hand, still standing tall, confidant. My smile widened as he approached. "Take mine, enough to change back."

"It's quite a bit," I said, tilting my head. "Are you sure you're up for this? It could leave you weak, exhausted if a fight were to happen."

"I am sure," he said, visibly growing, as the heat in the room raised. His eyes seemed to burn. "Do it."

"If you're sure," I said, shrugging. I placed my hand in his and _pulled._

I am a bonfire. Jacket, a flame steel. Kenta? An _inferno._ I took, pulling, filling my ball. His fires flagged a bit, but more replaced it. I kept draining, kept taking, refilling myself, capping out my ball. When it ended he sagged a bit before recovering, standing straight. I winked at him, blew him a kiss, then pulled the energy, surrounding myself as my tails shrunk, ears disappeared, _I_ shrunk…

And buried my face in my hands, cheeks burning. What had I been _thinking?_

Footsteps hit the stairs and Seka moved to quickly join us, leaning against the window, facing the stairs, looking casually relaxed. Kenta copied her, gazing out the window, arms crossed. Boots hit the top as I too looked out the window, Seka in my scope of vision. She relaxed, _I_ relaxed, leaning into the wall, letting out a long held breath.

"Sierra?"


	3. Chapter 3

Foxfire 3.1

I stared out the window, smile frozen on my face. Seka noticed, eyes flickering between me and Villers.

"Yo Cheif! Whats up!" She said, waving at him, throwing an arm over my shoulder. She hesitated a moment, but I don't think anyone but me noticed. Shaking off the daze I turned with her, trying to loosen my smile, make it more genuine.

"Officer Villers," I said, inclining my head, trying to calm, heart beating, ignoring my urge to run, to hide, to scream. "It's been a while. The investigations going well I hope?"

"Hello Seka, and I suppose so," he said, eying me, placing his gun in his holster, echoed by his fellow policemen. I recognized one; he'd been manning the door when I gave my statement. He gave me a nod then moved downstairs, followed quickly by the others. Chief Villers smiled politely, nodding towards Kenta. "Hello, I'm afraid we haven't been introduced. Cedric Villers."

"Takimoto Kenta," he said, arms folded, a hard look in his eyes. If Villers noticed, he didn'tcomment.

"A pleasure to meet you," Villers said, stance straight, looking meeting our eyes in turn, eyes lingering on me, "But I have to cut this little meeting short. I'm afraid the three of you need to vacate the premises immediately."

"What for?" Kenta said, tilting his head. "I was not aware this is a restricted area. There was no police tape, no guards, no warnings."

"That is the _reason_ you need to leave. There was supposed to be all three, there has been an ongoing PRT investigation on site. Around noon they ceased to make contact with central base," he said. My heart skipped a beat, thinking of Don. "This had been ignored as a common occurrence. Everyone assumed they were out for lunch. It was just called in, and the PRT requested me and my officers investigate while they scramble the Protectorate and their men. Their current internal crisis is a bit of a hindrance."

"Why? What's got their knickers in a twist?" Seka said, kicking back, flashing a grin, "Finally find the stick up their ass?" Chief Villers just stared at her, a drawn, weary look on his face.

"Classified," he said, shaking his head, "I'm sure you'll hear about it on the news soon enough. Now come along, we'd best be leaving this place. Seka, even _without_ the crisis you should know better than to come here."

"Yeah, yeah. Do you think I'm a moron? I know they might come after me, and took precautions," she said, squeezing my shoulder, waving at Kenta, "I'm on buddy system!"

"Be that as it may," he said tersely, walking down the stairs, "You must leave. Now. Come, I'll see you out." I watched him go, feeling all over the place as I dropped the smile, slumping.

"Sure thing! Thanks Chief!" Seka said, waving her hand in the air before lowering her voice as she made her way down the stairs. "What an asshole _._ Hey, you okay? What happened between you and the Chief? I mean, I don't like the guy, but last I saw you two got along fine. _"_ She looked at me curiously, none of the hesitation or edginess from earlier.

"I…don't want to talk about it," I said, hugging myself a bit, feeling exhausted. I made myself move, follow, heading down the stairs, changing tacks. "So, he said there was a crisis in the Protectorate. What do you think? Was there an attack?"

"There was no attack." Kenta rumbled, taking up the rear. "It would have been public. Attacking such a large target draws eyes." Ah, yes. He would know. _He'd done it._ My steps stuttered but he reached out, grabbing my arm to stop my fall. As soon as I straightened he let go, acting as if nothing happened. "An internal matter, one they are holding off, sculpting for the press."

"Fucking gestapo," Seka muttered, reaching the bottom of the stairs. Our conversation ceased as we passed the slowly moving officers. Villers stood still, studying a recent burn mark from when I'd smashed the cameras. His pale green gaze roved over me as we approached. I cringed, but he said nothing, motioning us onwards. I couldn't relax, staring at the back of his head, stomach clenched, a chill down my spine. We continued moving, silent, the mood oppressive. Seka seemed lost in thought, sparing me occasional glances. Kenta careless, idly glancing around. About a block away Villers raised a hand, stopping, and turned around.

"Sierra, a moment alone if you would?" he said, face impassive. I know what he wants, but I don't want to give it. I have been avoiding the issue, not thinking about it, skirting the edges, but he was obviously hurt. His words, motions and body language were all polite and to the point, with none of the warmth or friendly exasperation I'd come to expect in our short time together. My abrupt departure had obviously affected him, and while I'm almost positive he wouldn't have had anything to do with Emma's bullying campaign…

I don't need to deal with this. Not now with the emotions still strong, the wounds still fresh. I would probably break down, out myself somehow, reveal my identity to _more_ people. No, now is not a good day. Better to deal with this later.

I pulled on my energy a bit, loosening the barrier, a small ball the size of a marble appearing in the palm of my hands. My guilt, disappointment and rage found their place there, swirling around, leaving me calm, unaffected. I clasped my hands behind my back, turning to face him.

"Whatever for?" I said, tilting my head, letting the question linger. "Is it important? Is this about my statement? Questions for the case?"

"No," he said, a note of stress in his voice, a hint of worry in his voice. I almost cracked at that, smile wavering, instead letting in a bit more of the power, the ball growing just a bit bigger. His eyes flickered behind me where Seka and Kenta were standing, obviously reluctant to push the issue with others around.

"Well," I said, forcing a smile on my face, "Then how about another time? We have some plans, still a lot to do today. It's nothing that can't wait, right?"

"Right," he said, taking a moment to collect himself. His gaze remained intense before he closed his eyes, pinched his nose, and let out a long, deep breath before turning, heading towards the house. "Right. My mistake, sorry to have bothered you. Another time, then?"

"Yes," I said, feeling the ball growing, not turning my back to him as he made his way back, "Some other time." Standing there silently I watched him make his way inside, past the busted door. I strained my ears as his steel-toed footsteps hit the entranceway, moving through the kitchen, heading up the stairs.

Turning, I moved my ball to my front. About the size of my baseball. The energy suffusing my skin felt frayed, thin, but held. Turning I looked at myself, feeling my head, checking my back. No ears, no tails. I looked towards Kenta and Seka who stood there, eying me oddly. Their eyes seemed to follow my ball as I tossed it around, playing with it idly. I could feel everything there, all my guilt, anger, rage, frustration, still swirling, still strong, but not affecting _me._ Not much at least, not for the moment.

I took a deep, shuddering breath, feeling the strain of the remainder, the emotions _not_ trapped in a ball. So tempting to force them all there, but I refrained. Better to work some out now, drain it off then ignore them completely, push away my humanity. I'd let them back in, little by little. Just not now.

Some other time.

"Hey," I said, catching my ball, looking at Kenta, feeling a little heady, a little spontaneous, "Do you know any place we could go to relax? To let off some steam, let our emotions run wild?"

He chuckled, motioning for Seka and I, heading south, deeper into the docks.

"I know just the place."

x-x

Foxfire 3.2

"So…" Seka said, trailing off a bit. She'd been shooting odd looks at me as we walked, whenever she thought I wasn't looking, and she'd just caught my eye. Her easy camaraderie had faded, leaving this odd puzzlement and wariness. Is my other form really that scary? I don't _feel_ all that different.

"So?" I said, tilting me head. She cleared her throat.

"So, what… are you thinking?" she said, grinning widely. A little too widely. I thought of calling her out on all her looks, finding out what was the matter, but decided against it. After all, she really can help with this question.

"I was thinking about signing up as an independent, a few questions I have about the entire process," I said, turning towards her as we moved. I wasn't playing with my ball anymore, placing it in my backpack. I had the feeling I could call it into my hand at any time, but not seeing it gave her a measure of calm.

"Oh," she said, relaxing. "So, what questions do you got? I could help you with that, looked up the whole process before."

"Well," I said, playing with my hair," I was wondering how to get around the whole registration thing if you don't really have a civilian identity." Not one I was willing to use, anyways.

" _Oh._ You don't need one," she said tersely, backing away, facing forwards. Kenta snorted.

Right. Enough of this. I left he,r moving closer to Kenta.

" _Why_ _is she scared of me?"_ I said, hissing under my breath. If he can hear the police from two blocks away, he can hear this too. He chuckled.

"You have nine tails. Why would she not be?" he said, speaking quietly, shaking his head, obviously amused. I growled in frustration. He wasn't giving me a straight answer.

"Look, I get that she's afraid of my other form, and that I do some pretty weird things when I'm like that," I said, shooting him a look, "But I'm human now. Why is she still afraid?" He made an amused sound in the back of his throat, shaking his head.

"You're just so-" I stopped, cocking my head. Something….something felt _off._ I turned to Kenta. "Is this normal foot traffic around here?" I said, looking across the street. We were in a small, rundown area of the docks. The houses were small, former shops squat. There were a few rundowns, some homeless vagrants, and a small sign sitting proudly in an empty lot, saying 'for sale'. While the street was empty, empty enough to talk about cape business and feel _safe,_ people only moved in one direction. Towards the docks. No one was heading downtown, or to the boardwalk.

"No. It is not," Kenta said, frowning. He held up a hand, stopping Seka as he slowed, listening, searching for something wrong. I moved to the nearby rundown, knocking. No response, no one inside. I went in closed the door, and breathed as I loosened the energy, just a little. Ears twitched atop my head, my eyes grew sharper, and a single tail appeared, swishing behind me. I closed my eyes and _listened._

Four, no, five blocks away. People breathing, talking, murmuring. Higher than usual, on a roof. Countless blades sounding in unison, quietly, but there. I peeked through the window, motioning for Seka and Kenta to join me. If Kenta was surprised by my appearance he didn't show it, and Seka even seemed _relieved._ I was just glad my thoughts hadn't changed. That I could tell, at least.

"What have you found?" Kenta said, settling against the wall.

"I can hear maybe ten people on a roof five blocks down," I said, sketching out a rough map in the wood with my nails. "There are several others on the streets, but I can't tell if they're enemies or not. The only reason I'm certain about the ones on the roof is that they have something with them, something that sounds like several thousand metal knives moving in unison." I dotted the streets, the people on the roof crosses, with a big circle in the middle.

"Hookwolf," Kenta growled, leaning down for a closer look. I called my ball to my hand, casting a soft glow for Seka to see in the dim light. Midafternoon sun streamed through the windows, but none reached my hiding spot. She hunched down, tracing the drawing.

"You said five blocks down. In that direction?" she said, pointing. I nodded. "Hey Kenta, looks like their running a hold down on your Casino."

"Foolish," he said, baring his teeth, "They cannot stop me, cannot escape. Not here, deep within _my_ territory. Call Lee, inform him he has work to do." My heart skipped a beat hearing that. _Oni Lee?_ So Seka _is_ ABB. Really, it should have been obvious with her relationship with Kenta. Workmates, in a way.

"Yeah, problem with that," she said, texting rapidly. "He's already occupied. By the sounds of it, so is everyone else. Adachi called in, saying there's been an attack by the piers, requesting backup. Pai is running himself ragged deploying the boys, trying to deal with the threats they can. We're getting hit by _everything._ Their goons, their capes. Thank god Mom's still safe, the Parahuman gestapo's hard at work fighting the _actual_ gestapo." Her smile had a manic edge to it. She texted away, almost giddy, reticence forgotten. Snapping her phone shut, she turned to lung. "Yeah, all empire capes besides Hookwolf's crew accounted for. All three of em are no shows so far."

"Three will not be enough to stop me," Kenta said, bulking up. More like seven feet tall now, the air shimmering round him.

"They probably weren't planning on 'stopping' you, just killing you," Seka said, shrugging," Their teams perfectly capable of shredding you to bits in your normal form before you build up, and there hasn't' been a commotion around here. Not their usual style."

"How would they manage that?" I said, watching Seka unpack. Her purse held _a lot._ Sure it had the normal stuff, stationary, makeup, pads. It also held tinkertech orbs of varying shapes and sizes, along with what looked like a steampunk gas mask. Honestly, this explained why it was so big.

"Well," she said, pulling out some gloves and a hoodie, "They could have killed everyone, or those ten stationary on the roof are hostages. My bets on hostages, some way to deal with Lung." I jerked at that name but calmed myself, pushing the emotions away, my ball growing a bit bigger, another tail sprouting. Kenta just grew more, seemingly uncaring.

I was beginning to see another side of them, and I didn't really like it. Before I'd been able to ignore this part of them, disassociate them as people from the ABB and the crime lord Lung. Now all they represented, all Lung _did_ was rushing back to me, and I all I wanted to do was _leave_. This isn't my fight, not my war. But…"Hostages?" I said, turning to look at Seka.

"Yeah," she said, pulling on the hoodie, gloves and boots.

"How are you going to deal with them?" I said, pushing, looking for a sign, some remorse, some worry.

"Eh," she said, nonchalantly picking up the mask, playing with the orb, _grenade,_ "It'll work itself out."

"Do you," I said, taking a breath," Do you mind if I help out?"

"You sure?" she said, raising a quizzical brow, "This isn't your fight, its ABB. Thought you were big on the whole 'independent hero' thing."

"I am!" I said before I breathed, calming myself," But I can help, just this once. For the hostages. You have to agree to help me save them." Kenta laughed, deep, rumbling, while Seka had this smug, satisfied grin on her face.

"Deal! No refunds!" she said glefully, "Knew you'd fall for the whole hostage thing. Planning on saving them anyways, was holding out for you. If we weren't this angry dragon woulda just charged them already."

I groaned, dropping my head in my hands, not sure if I was disappointed in myself for thinking so lowly of them, or that I fell for it. I heard Seka rummaging around her purse.

"Here we go!" she said, making a small noise of satisfaction. "Here, take a look."

I raised my head, staring at what she proudly held. It was like an Oni mask made of bone. The features slim, feminine, horns small. White, a few etchings of red. Sharpened teeth filled the outside, with tusks on the edges. The eyes were filled in, jaw flexible. It would cover my entire face, from my forehead to neck, ear to ear, jawline to jawline.

"So I rustled this up yesterday off a mold I had Parian take of your face, should fit perfectly. Damn good mold considering she based it off a bolt of cloth you almost ate, she's got a great memory for shape. Should be snug enough. It's got a voice synthesizer and the lenses act as goggles with built in telescoping vision, equipped with optional heat vision. You touch the button here for this," she said, pointing. "Decided on the whole bone theme to go with the possible armor, wouldn't look out of place with a set of heavy." She waited, looking at me, grinning.

It looked…demonic. Villainous. The kind of mask I'd expect to see on the other end if someone held a gun to my head. It drew immediate similarities to Oni Lee. I could imagine the armor she had in mind to go with it. Bony, spiky, intimidating. Made to take damage and deal it out.

"Why not a fox?" I said, studying it idly. She made an annoyed noise.

"A fox?" she said, rolling her eyes, " _Please._ Any fox design would have whiskers painted on, and with your painted on whiskers and similar body type you'd be a suspect, _easy._ People wouldn't even have to _try_ to connect you, and any costume would have to be light and airy. This? This adds a layer of _division,_ of _defense,_ of _power._ If you look strong enough, people will hesitate to fight you." She handed me the mask, expression rapt, expectant.

She had obviously put a lot of thought into this. A lot of work, a lot of effort. I turned it around, depressing a small pad where my forehead would go. The eyes began to glow, taking on an ethereal red shade, another difference from my deep blue. I put it on. "Thanks, Seka," I said, wincing. My voice came out high and low at once, my own voice distorted by the static of the lower when I spoke. "You're right, it fits perfectly."

Lung got up, growing, scales erupting from his form as he ducked his way through the door, face inhuman, split. She winked, pulling on her own mask as she wiggled her shoes a bit. When she looked up, a cyberpunk terrorist took her place.

"No prob. But," she said, her voice synthesized, monotone, unchanging. She turned her purse inside out, making it a harness of some kind, filled with tinkertech, grenades, and a metallic finish. "I'm not Seka right now. Call me Bakuda."

x-x

Foxfire 3.3

"So ah…Bakuda. What do your things do?" I said, pointing vaguely at her harness.

"You mean bombs," she said, the grating monotone of her mask putting me somewhat on edge.

"Yeah, bombs," I said, taking a breath, wishing the strange duality of my tone didn't make everything I say sound so _threatening._

"Well these ones," she said, motioning towards the white and black patterned bombs, "slow time. Been trying to get them to _stop_ time in an area, but seems pretty damn impossible. Lasts 30 minutes. Later version, I'll just have them slow the area in the center exponentially. The yellow ones? Think giant tazer. Gives whoever's in a range a nasty shock."

"What about the red ones?" I said, glancing at the majority. She made this strange, repetitive sound. Laughter?

"Good old fashioned explosives **,** " she said, patting them affectionately. I winced, screams of pain and anger reaching my ears followed by a short, victorious roar.

"Ah, looks like he found them early," Se- Bakuda said, moving faster, "Ambush must have been called off when they saw a ten foot dragon man bearing down on them." I nodded distractedly, cocking my head to the side. The people on the roof hadn't moved, but the sound of blades grew louder and there was this strange, metallic _screech._ Twenty feet of screaming metal hit Lung head on, finding purchase, tearing into him as he was pushed back, blood flowing, roaring in defiance. I moved to help before Bakuda grabbed, my arm, stopping me.

"Relax, _"_ she said, shaking her head, "Lung got this. See, him and Hookwolf have done this whole song and dance before. Hookwolf tries to kill Lung until he starts reaming his ass, _then_ pulls the dirty underhanded tricks. He's too much of a 'warrior' to do it otherwise. C'mon, now's our chance to get those hostages **.** " She jerked her head, moving down an alleyway. I followed, tossing a brief look at Lung. He really _is_ doing better. I cocked my head, ears twitching.

"Seven people coming our way, round the corner. No idea if their hostiles or not," I said, jumping up the wall to get a better view. Pausing in shock a bit I stood there, shaking my head. Bakuda reached for her time bomb, tossing it forwards. It blew up, first thugs eyes wide with shock as the subsequent tried to back away. She threw her electric bomb, leisurely dodging a bullet, beginning to head up the stairs. I threw a bolt of fire on pure reflex. It flew wide, not slowing down. I tried sheathing my arm in energy, heading down towards the bubble of time. I swiped, pulling back at the last second, hitting an essence wall.

Hmm…

I moved up, sprouting five tails instead of two, still feeling somewhat myself. Dancing my way down the wall I sheathed an arm in essence, swiping through with no resistance.

Well then.

"Had a major find?" Bakuda said, breath a harsh monotone as she ascended the stairs, meeting me on the roof.

"I believe our little hostage situation just became much simpler," I said, viewing across the roof. A lithe, scarred woman in a cage-like mask stared back at me, various people arrayed around her, crouched down, hands on their heads. Her eyes flickered between me and the ongoing fight, her strangely shaped weapon laying at rest beside her. I flicked a bolt of foxfire her way, watching her reaction. She jerked her head fractionally as it blew past, not breaking eye contact, stance unchanging, though her weapon did edge closer towards a hostage. Skilled. Confident. Disciplined.

Patterned. Predictable. Boring.

"What's the plan," Bakuda rasped, moving out of Cricket's line of sight.

"It depends, I suppose," I said, waving at the caged woman with a tail, "On what she can do."

"Not much I can tell you about her," she said, shrugging her shoulders, "Close up fighter, wields that bat of hers like a precision instrument. She's got these killer reflexes, always dodging, striking, moving just in the nick of time. Who knows, that might even be her whole shtick."

Nodding absently, I turned my attention back to the Nazi woman. Enhanced reflexes. How bland. At least it makes rescuing the hostages more interesting.

"How do your bombs detonate?" I said, tilting my head as the blond woman's eye twitched, "I never noticed a fuse or arming device."

"That's because with my quality of work, the only person who'd make it so others could feasibly detonate these baby's would be an _idiot,_ " she said, then tapped her head. "I blow these things up with my _mind._ "

"Well, that makes this easy, " I said, studying her bandolier. Plain, circular orbs stared back, not a blemish on their surface. "Pass me a time bomb, be ready to blow it on my signal."

"Aye aye, mon capitan," she said, throwing the tech with a careless toss. Snatching it from the air, I prepared to throw…

"Bakuda?" I said, lowering my hand.

"Mmm?" she said, watching Lung and Hookwolf fight.

"I'm afraid we will have to add another rating to our little friend Cricket," I said, letting out a sigh. Whereas before she kept her hostages at arm's length she now held an old man in a loose grip, shaking her head, tapping her ear through her cage mask. Bakuda noticed, glancing across the roof. Cricket gave a small wave. Bakuda flipped her off, turning to me.

"Guess this means you're going to have to stop holding back, huh?" she said, eying my seven tails. I didn't respond at first, studying the situation. I'd met Naoko in a situation much like this. A skilled opponent, carrying a hostage. Three roofs away instead of one room. Enhanced reflexes. While she doesn't appear to have a gun, neither did Jacket. If I threw a bout of foxfire she could execute a hostage and be long gone before I reached her. Likewise, my little trick with time dilation seemed unlikely to be of use against a cape who could kill with a twitch. I would reach her fast, but only fast enough to watch the man die. Yet somehow I feel that if I release my last two tails, I can _win._ But no. There has to be another way.

I felt that separate orb of energy waiting in the back of my head. I have powers for sure. This means that that orb does _something._ Probably the cause of whatever lets me change shape. Random effect, based on need? Can I at least _try_ to use it?

No. Too much of an unknown, too unpredictable. Cricket can take whatever happens as a threat. _Why_ hadn't I been experimenting with my powers again? I made for that last change, to push of the last of my self-imposed shackles. Seven became eight, but that last step…I stopped. Not out of any limitation, but pure guilt, pure _hesitation._

Smacking my face with my hand, all I met was the hard surface of my mask. _Damnit._ Too hesitant. Too guilty. Too afraid of the consequences, of change. Why?

The last of my shackles sat there, mocking me. Cricket didn't move. A quiet sob echoed across the roofs, a small girl.

"Bakuda," I said, staring straight at Cricket, "Are you sure this is a good idea? Me letting loose I mean."

"Uh, yeah? Why the hell wouldn't it be?" she said. Voice still monotone, it made it hard to tell what she was feeling.

"I'm afraid. Of myself, I mean, when I throw off all my humanity," I said, hand moving behind my back, grasping an arm. Seka shifted, not responding for a moment. We listened to the growing sounds of violence before she gave a small mechanical sigh.

"Yeah? Good, thought it was only me," she said, leaning against a metal vent as I winced, "but what's that got to do with all this?" She waved a hand, encompassing the hostages and the attentive Nazi.

"I'm afraid I might do something that I will come to regret. When I saved Y… Miss Nakane, there was this man named Mark, one of the kidnappers. I nearly killed him, "I said, watching Cricket's eyes light in recognition. Her grip on the captive tightened. They knew each other? "I'm afraid something similar might happen here, to the hostages or to her."

" _Seriously_?" Bakuda said, monotone voice somehow coming across biting. "You're afraid of possibly hurting or killing Nazis. That's your hang up." I moved to respond but she cut me off, moving into my line of vision.

"No no no. You listen to me. You're feeling guilty for accidently _almost_ killing a Nazi. Stop that. Now. You know what Nazi's are all about, right? Racial purity. Boils down to this: anyone not white needs to die. Me, you, that kid on the rooftop over there, " she said, motions strong, passionate, making a gun motion with her hand, " _Bang._ Brains splattered. Dead. Gone. Remember what happened yesterday? That attempted murder? They pull that kind of shit _all the time._ You heard Lung earlier, that wannabe that was there was probably doing that to prove himself, doing _more_ than what you're guilty for because he thought it was some kind of _initiation_. Why are you so fucking hesitant?"

"I have enough blood on my hands," I said, dual tone harsh, then blinked. Where had _that_ come from? Seka jerked, stopping, clenching her fists before breathing in a burst of static, stilling herself. She made a short, aborted motion towards the captives.

"Fine," she said, tone calm, robotic, menacing, "But you made a deal to help, and if you don't, you'll have even _more_ blood on your hands."

I stopped, glaring at her. Seka stood smug, unmoving. She thought she could trap me with _words?_ Then I breathed, running a hand over my face, pushing the alien thought away.

No. No. There's more at stake here, _people_ at stake. There's no time for this petty hesitation and grand standing. I breathed, removing all but one tail, focusing on my thoughts, my goals, and my reasons. Focusing on the faces across the roof, the fright, the anger, the need, the new wariness in the Parahuman Nazi.

Focused as such I reached out, pushing away the energy, the barrier, tails bursting into Nine.

x-x

Dreaming of Foxfire 3.4

Frowning, I opened my eyes, a quick mental check going through my head. No sudden urges to kill anyone, however annoying they might be. Not even the trio. Still want to save the hostages, taking note not to nearly kill enemies. Seems like all is in order. I stretched myself fully, clothes somewhat tight but still comfortable, opening my eyes to behold the suddenly wary Nazi, her fingers twitching minutely. I changed my expression to be gentle, soothing, to help her relax, to drop her guard. Her hand clenched on the knife, inching closer.

Really. That never works. What am I doing wrong? I know I have the facial muscles right, but… ah, yes, the mask. That must be it. Likely she saw nothing, making her warier. I cocked my head, letting my curiosity shine through as I studied her. Sudden wariness, tenseness. Her muscles stood out, smooth and corded under her skin, her gaze sharp. A far cry from the relaxed pose she took earlier. What had her so worried?

Wait. Of course. Rocking back, I released a sigh. She heard our entire conversation. Forewarned and scared, rightfully so. But then again…I laughed, letting my joy of foreseen victory echo through the roofs. She immediately tensed, knife raising to the old man's throat but _all_ attention on me.

Excellent.

I trapped her attention, _breathing_ it in. The effects were immediate. She relaxed, muscles unclenching, knife drooping. The old man pushed out of her grasp, running to the other hostages, the younger moving to guard him. She didn't notice. Gathering myself, I leapt across the rooftops. One, two, three leaps till I was in range as I grabbed her with my tails, pushing her off the roof as I ended the heavily draining attention technique. She snapped out of it in midair, twisting to land on her feet, eyes wide, breath harsh. Not likely to attack me again. Really, it's as I thought before. She's boring. Turning, I let my attention wander to the hostages. Mostly clean clothes, a little rumpled, pulled from the streets. The older eyed me warily while I could hear sighs of relief from the younger.

"You might as well get moving. While I can't hear anyone else around, I doubt Cricket will stand out of the way for long," I said, waving a hand at the staircase, "There's an exit on the opposite side of the building, take that and head deeper into the docks. You will be fine, the Empire's forces are busy fighting Lung." My words punctuated by a sudden crash followed by a harsh metallic _screech_. The youths made the first move, heading for the stairs. Their elders called out to them, glaring at me. Well, at least till they came to no harm. Then the elders slowly followed while looking vaguely befuddled, very surprised, a little fearful.

I suppose it is the mask. Beastly thing really, can't recall why I let Seka talk me into wearing it. Designed to intimidate rather than reassure. The glowing red eyes. The dual tone of voice. The bonelike texture,, color, and shape. The mouth of fangs, moving in time with my speech. No matter what I do, I look like a villain. No wonder the poor men are scared. Probably Seka's goal to be honest, an overt recruitment attempt. Really, for all that I think this form needs the most guidance I make such _stupid_ decisions. This mask runs completely counter intuitive to being a hero. It might become a problem later, especially when dealing with the Protectorate or PRT after helping ABB capes. Hmm…

Discard it?

No, no, rule number two, no removing the mas-

I leaned my head, moving to the side, a ball of metal and blades scrapping the side of my mask. Looking over my shoulder I saw Cricket, sickle in hand, bag of balls at her feet. My ears twitched, the revebrations of bat on ball harsh.

Well. Good enough reason to keep it I suppose.

Flicking a volley of fire her way I turned. The last of the hostages disappeared, making due haste down the staircase. At least their hesitation's gone. I leapt down, searching for Cricket. She appeared relatively unscathed, though the wall and her bat had seen better days. Ah, such an oversight.

She moved.

She made for the wall, batting another spiked ball my way. Dancing to the side, I leapt forwards, letting loose a bolt of essence, striking her leg. She went down, wobbled, kept moving. Frowning, I moved after her. Now where did she think…

Ah. Of course.

I leapt up, grasping the wall, moving for the other building even as Stormtiger and Hookwolf burst through the previous. The wall burst apart in a in a flurry of wind, fire, and blades. Lung howled in rage, unable to get closer, trying to climb the crumbling wall as they turned their attention to me. I'm sure they don't usually have this level of collateral. If they did, downtown wouldn't be left standing. Then again, this _is_ the Docks. Worn, damp, broken. Rival territory, 'inferior' race.

I suppose they could care less.

They charged, moving in unison, abandoning the slower threat in favor of the weaker. A good plan, but… I ran, an explosion of air blasting apart the masonry below me. I _flew_ , leaping across the rooftops, leading them on a merry chase. Away from the hostages, naturally. Glancing down, I made for the streets. A small alley, no cover, dead end.

Perfect.

I turned, tossing my ball. It flew, sinking through the cracked wall even as they rounded the corner, led by Hookwolf. I leaned back against the wall, hand extended, gesturing for them to come. They obliged. Blades of steel screaming songs of pain and violence. Claws of air, tearing through the night. Black balls of metal rode on them, aiming to take my head off. They came at me with their all, aiming to either take me out of the fight or outright kill me.

I _moved,_ burning through my inner reserves as time slowed around me. Duck. Dodge. Twist. Razor wind, balls of blades, I avoided them all, staying on the ground, leaping to the side, watching, waiting…now.

A swirling orb of energy exited the wall, leaving an impression of itself through it. Cricket reacted quickly, moving out of the way, whistling the others attention. Hookwolf didn't move and _paid_ for it. The wolf of blades collapsed, part of its right gone along with a hind leg. Blades sprang into being, moving to replace them. I'd struck more than just metal. Stormtiger lay on the ground, grasping his stump of an arm, screaming in pain. He'd tried to dodge, just hadn't been fast enough. I caught my ball, back to its normal size, tossing my newly filled orb as I leaned against the wind-scarred wall. Hookwolf began to move towards me before. He stopped at a twenty foot distance while glancing between me and his companions.

"You didn't finish them," he said, a cacophony of blades, knives and hooks resembling actual speech. My ears twitched and tails lashed _._

"Killing is hardly something a hero would do," I said, still tossing my ball in one hand, examining my nails in the other. A bit of stone was stuck there. I reached that hand into my ball. When I pulled it out it was clean, all trace of dirt or grime gone.

"A hero? Do you think I'd fall for such a blatant lie?" he said, followed by a strange, screeching laugh, "Don't think I don't recognize that mask. Oni Lee wears something similar."

"The mask is the only similarity," I said, tilting my head, catching my ball. Cricket dragged Stormtiger towards the streets but I paid her no mind. A boring exit to a tedious fight. "While I may be helping them now it is only to end the fighting, to save the Docks."

"You could have joined us instead," he said, shaking his massive wolfs head, "Or remained neutral. Instead I see you running with their bomb bitch."

"Well, I'd hardly choose the side holding hostages," I said, shrugging. A door opened nearby, a car started. As the car left, so did most of the scent of blood.

"Then, as you have said, you have chosen your side," he said, crouching preparing to jump," so will you fight as a warrior, or run as a maiden?" I tossed my ball, letting it come a little more forwards before catching it. He twitched. I gave him an open mouth smile, knowing he'd be treated to a smiling fanged face.

"I hardly think you're in any condition to fight me right now. It was hard to tell, but easier now that Stormtiger is gone. You are bleeding. You hide it on your blades, somewhere in your large form, but inside there is _flesh_ ," I said, hands forming claws at my side before I relaxed, an angry roar approaching, growing louder by the second.

"Besides," I said, leaning back in amusement, "I doubt you could take both me _and_ Lung. If you leave now I'll let you free. Even stop Lung from killing you if necessary."

He eyed me, face unreadable, before quickly loping off, bounding through the streets. I relaxed, surveying the area, listening to the sounds of disappearing blades, the sounds of peace. A few people were startled, but no death screams, no sudden, wet crunches. A wise choice. Really, Hookwolf was far more interesting than his lackeys. A mix of an honorable warrior and a ruthless knave. He might actually be a challenge now that he was aware of my most dangerous weapon.

Not that I'd tell him that, of course.

Lung rounded the corner, saw no one and _growled_ before sniffing the air, loping quickly after Hookwolf. While not as fast, he still made good speed, certainly more than a normal man could. His long strides ate the land, leaving a trail of flame and destruction behind him. Seka reached me, huffing, puffing, sucking in air.

"The hell are you doing just standing there!" she said, grabbing my hand. I resisted, remaining standing where I was, looking on in amusement. "C'mon, get moving!"

"Why?" I said, tilting my head, "Our deals done. The hostages are freed, the villains have fled. It's hardly my business where they run to, and I doubt I could capture Hookwolf."

"You…you actually believe this shit, you think Hookwolf's running," Seka said, standing still, fists clenching. She laughed, small, short, monotone, aborted. I frowned, tilting my head in confusion.

"If he were running, he wouldn't be heading that direction. He'd be going the _other_ way," she said, sucking in a breath, removing her mask, her face drawn, haggard, worried. "He's not running. Not even fucking close. He's heading towards the hospital," she said, drawing in a breath.

"He's heading for Mom."

x-x

Dreaming of Foxfire 3.5

 _Cricket fell over headfirst, unmoving, uncaring. Her eyes were vacant, pale blue, moving only for me. I waved, relaxed, casual, then breathed out her essence, let her go. Her eyes widened as realization began to dawn and she turned frantically in the air, moving desperately to land on her feet. I turned, walking back towards the hostages. Quick. Easy. Boring._

I leaned back in my chair, breathing deeply, feeling behind myself just in case. Nothing. No tails. I made a effort and a small fire appeared, depleting a sliver more, a bit of my essence. It took more, but I could still use this. Good.

 _It seems some, though, just aren't fast enough. Stormtiger fell, Left arm gone, right clasped to his side. Blood leaked through, caught by the air, flowing, pushing, knocking on the wound, wind screaming to let it in..._

"Your fight back there," Bakuda said, pumping a fist, "was fucking amazing. Seriously, didn't guess you had that kind of power. Thought you were a classic. You know, foxfire, transformations, illusions. But that flying death ball? Fucking _amazing_."

Frowning, I looked at her. Relaxed, leaning into her seat, she didn't resemble the grief stricken visage I'd seen at all. Fiddling with her bombs, speaking into her receiver, she looks nothing more like a mad bomber, an indolent crime lord. Lung, on the other hand seems quiet, serious. Her shitt is just strange, images not adding up.

 _Hookwolf stood there, seemingly immutable, unchanged, a silver wolf of whirling blades. I breathed, letting his scent filter through my nose. Without Stormtiger around, I could smell it beneath the scent of sweat and steel, of damp walls and dusty alleys. The liquid scent of copper and iron mingled with sweat, grease and hair. Faint, background, but there. The scent grew as he spoke, buying time for his subordinates._

 _"_ _Then you have chosen your side," he said, crouching low, preparing to jump. As he creaked, the scent increased. Maybe I heard it, maybe I imagined it. Drip drop, his lifeblood spilling out." Will you fight as a warrior or run as a girl?"_

 _"_ _Depends on my mood really," I said, tossing my ball. He flinched, knees tensing, moving to the side. Interesting. I caught it, unclasping my mask a bit, letting loose a laugh. Speeding through the elongated nail lock I turned, moving it to the right, letting him see my grin. One half covered, the other free. There was a roar, a crash, the shake of earth and the hint of victory, the promise of violence. "But are you really in any position to ask?" He tensed, head moving, body shifting to better move away._

 _It would be easy to finish him. To hem him in, keep him till Lung came. Humans are fragile and he is wounded. Despite his power, I doubt he will put up much of a fight, too focused on the pain. But should I? Do I really want to? Do I really_ need _to? No. Lung, Hookwolf. Villains, the both of them. One winning over the other really wouldn't benefit me in any way. Dad and I live in a neutral area, one of the few left close to the docks. A small shift, a small change, and all that ends. There would be more grabs, more territory, more violence._

 _Besides, I have already helped the ABB enough. Certainly more than a Hero should. And instead of a fast, brutal, foreknown fight, a brave warrior, forced to run, protecting his fallen comrades from the rage of an unstoppable dragon…_

 _Now wouldn't that be interesting._

I hugged myself, shuddering, shying away from my reflection in the mirror. Glowing eyes, red symbols etched in bone, a mouth of fangs with a throat of shadows changing slightly to mirror my thoughts, my motions, my movements, to change them, make them different, removed. Demonic. Inhuman.

It fit, all considering.

 _"_ _He's not running," she said, shaking her head. "If he was running, he'd be going the_ other _way, back to Empire territory. He's going to another part of the docks. Better, cleaner, a lighter presence, but still ABB territory."_

 _"_ _He's heading for the hospital," she said, removing her mask, revealing her worn face, her haggard visage, her lines of worry, faint streaks of liquid dripping towards her mouth._

 _"_ _He's heading for Mom."_

I tore my eyes from the mirror, looking out the window to the sudden rain. A flash flood, not uncommon in a seaside city like Brockton Bay. The rain thudded on the window, large goblets splattering at an accelerated pace, thousands of drops per second. It ran across the windows, miniature rivers on the sides.

There was no faking her reaction, her expression. No, this is probably just her way of coping, distracting herself. Finding a new project, a new goal, something to focus on.

"We lost him," Lung said, hand resting on the wheel. We'd found him five minutes into our chase, bare chest and barefoot, wearing only a silver dragon mask and a pair of jeans. With how his power works, maybe he has drop-offs around the docks, scheduled ahead of time. The car had been a surprise, but then again, he doesn't have any mover powers to speak of.

"Maybe he's just running, I could smell the blood, he was injured pretty badly," I said hopefully, flinching at the high and low of my masks synthesizer.

"That's fucking stupid," Bakuda said, letting out a mechanical snort, her eyeholes reflective, flat. "Everything has been too quick, too easy. No way he'd just up and run. He's Kaiser's muscle, his heavy hitter. Empire 88 doesn't work like that. They hit hard, they hit fast, yes, but they have a goal, they have a reason." She took out a bomb, playing with its insides. "See, Kaiser may be a horrible criminal but that doesn't make him an _idiot._ He's lasted this long because he knows how to play the crowd, to create a spectacle. He's all smoke, mirrors, and publicity stunts. Likes to play the part of the cultured villain, building up the PR, bringing more into his fold. Brockton bay has one of the highest concentrations of Nazi's _in the nation_ thanks to that modern art reject. He wouldn't really do a full scale attack like this unless he thought he had a shot."

"The problem," Lung said, rumbling as we turned the corner, "No change. Not land, capes, territory. Not in his favor. My only parahuman member was Oni Lee. No alliance, no Bakuda. We are _stronger_ now, yet he attacks. It's not his way. He loses men, he loses face. Oni Lee is good, but not enough to fight all at once. No, he has a plan, an objective."

"Add in a fight crazy maniac like Hookwolf running to the _one_ place on the docks we haven't heard a peep from," Bakuda said, clicking her bomb shut, "and you got one _hell_ of an indicator something's buggy."

"Makes sense," I said, backing off, pulling my legs off the floor, hugging my knees. The silence stretched, interrupted by the silent hum of the engine, the distant roar of guns, the faint calls from the phone resting comfortably on Bakuda's hip.

 _"_ _Adachi here, injured at pier, gutless cowards run back to mother's breasts."_

 _"_ _Zhè shì měilì de zǔguó Shì wǒ shēngzhǎng dì dìfāng…"_

 _"_ _Not just yours byeong-sin!"_

 _"_ _We have lost two men. One bastard dead, Rune wounded, bullet through leg. Should I pursue?"_

"No," Lung said, sitting back. "They run, stay for now. You have losses; a wound through her leg will not stop a wall breaking your head. Stay alive. Fight again. Kaiser will pay in time. The Empire will pay. Live to see this. Know when to bow to take his head. Take your men. Secure the area"

 _"_ _Understood. Jai out."_

 _"_ _Those fuckers killed Scott, and you want us to lay off them, just like that? Fuck you! Fuck all of you! I'm going in, alone if I-"_

"Timothy," Lung said slowly, fingers tapping the wheel. "Stop, _remember._ " The line quieted, all speaking stopped. I twitched, trying to distract myself. I didn't see anything he could be speaking into, and the dashboard seemed normal. His mask?

 _"_ _This is Oni Lee. Tiger district, clear. One dead, five wounded. Rat district, clear. No dead, no wounded, heavy structural damage. Krieg fought me there. Snake district, continued fighting. Three dead, seven wounded. Ambush, but none will escape with their lives. I will make sure of it. Ox district…"_

My hands clenched, stopping when my nails punctured the seat. Leather ripped, tore, a short lived stabbing sound echoed through the car. I pulled back, a little guiltily. Lung heard that for sure.

"Did you capture or kill any of their Parahumans?" Lung said, ignoring my outburst.

 _"_ _No. They were too far back, using too much caution. Less casualties than expected for both sides. They ran immediately after their attempt failed. Faster, easier than usual."_

Lung snorted, turning to face me. His eyes were dark, shadowed through the mask, half lidded. I looked away. The body count still disturbed me, but he made his point. Empire 88's capes are always at their forefront, leading the charge, inspiring the troops. At least, that's what I saw on the news. They had some other plot, some other plan. If Naoko weren't in danger, I'm not sure I would have cared.

"Hey," Bakuda said, reaching across to put a hand on my shoulder. I flinched, backing away. She gave up, throwing her hands up before letting them drop. "What's up with the wallflower thing?"

"I'm not being a wallflower. Just me," I said, playing with the lock on my clasp again. It was a five slot thing, released by my nails, fitting into the slots. Flick, flick. Click, click. Flick, flick. Click, click.

"Bullshit," she said, shaking her head," I mean you pulled this on us at first, but game over, we've seen how you _really_ are. Why bother with this whole act now? " I looked up, hand dropping from my clasp, actually _glad_ for my mask for once.

"Because it's _not_ an act," I said, growling as I spoke. It came out in two. Distorted, menacing." This is not a trick, this is not a game. This is me _._ Normal, human. Earlier, when I fought the Empire? That _wasn't."_

"Right," she drawled, letting the word drag out. "You went from femme fatale to broken doll in three seconds flat. If being depressed is normal I _might_ believe you." She looked at me, expecting an answer. When I didn't she let out a burst of static. I'd come to recognize this as a sigh.

"If it's not an act," she said, voice monotone, robotic, actions casual, "what happened? You're kind of boring when you go full human, but never this much. Done nothing but make some half-assed statements, backing off soon as someone said anything. What, lose your personality along with your tails?"

" _Really,"_ I said, taking a breath, "I'd think this was _normal_ after hearing all those deaths, after almost killing someone." After possibly causing a murder for negligence," When your _mom's_ in danger, possibly _killed_."

"You're going there," she said, tapping her knees with her suddenly clenched fists. "You're _really_ going there. All right, I'll bite. Tell me this. What do you _expect_ from me, huh?"

"I...I don't know," I said, biting my lip, "Reaction. Emotion. Grief. Pain. Sadness. Something normal. What I saw earlier I guess. But it seemed like as soon as you entered this car, all that _stopped._ You started fiddling with your bombs, paying more attention to the ABB, your _gang._ You don't seem like you care about your mother at _all._ " She paused, dropping her project, turning in her seat so her feet faced me.

"Okay," she said, leaning back, steepling her fingers, "I think I know where you're going with this. You don't want me doing something productive, useful. You expect me to be crying through my nose, talking about my feelings or some shit. You expect me to act like you. _Useless._ "

 _ **Beat**_

"You know," I said, slowly stretching out my legs, letting go of my knees. Her lenses were blank, alien, a transparent copper sheen on the front of her mask. "For someone who claims to be so smart you can be really _fucking_ stupid."

My head snapped back, hitting the window. The pain burst, settling as a dull, throbbing ache as I snapped up, facing forwards. I _growled,_ manifesting my fire, leaping for her throat-

"Enough!"

The car stopped, jerking to a halt. My head jerked, crashing into the seat. It bent but resisted, stopping my movement, cushioning my landing. I pushed myself in a daze, trying to sort out my tangle limbs. Bakuda groaned, getting up from a similar position. She tried to stand at first, failing, before crawling up to the seat. I followed her example, doing the same.

"The hell was that for?" she said, facing Lung, cradling her head in her hands. "Could have snapped our necks like that!"

"Going at fifteen miles per hour? Unlikely," he said, shaking his head. "I grew tired of your bickering."

"So you what, try to crash the car?" she said, waving a hand. Lung snorted.

"Foxfire," he said, turning towards me, "You do not wish to help the ABB."

I paused, my breath hitching, staring at the _most powerful villain in Brockton Bay_. "I'm not, aba- I mean, I still want to help, just-"

"You do not like what we stand for. You do not like how we operate," he said, words calm, voice even.

"Yes," I said, letting myself relax, taking a breath, "I mean, I want to help save Naoko, help save the hospital, but…"

"Not like this. Not with us."

I nodded.

"That is fine," he said, popping out his key, unlocking the door, metallic dragon tattoos glinting in the light of the car. Bakuda moved to speak, but he cut her off with a motion. "You have fulfilled the deal, you promised no further help. I will not stop you."

I reached for the door before hesitating, fingers curling away before the handle. I unclasped the mask, laying it down on the seat of the car, a feeling of freedom washing over me. The windows were shaded, completely black from the outside, no risk of being seen. Seka twitched but I ignored her, focusing on Lung. There were more important things here to talk about than her ruined pride.

"Wait. I may not want to be associated with the ABB," I said, shaking my head, freeing up a bit of my hair, "I may not like your plans, who you are or what you do. But your current goal, saving your mother, possibly saving the hospital, is a _good_ thing. It's a goal I can get behind," something a hero would do," something I'd _want_ to do. I just think…you're going about it the wrong way."

"Yeah?" Seka said, sitting down, her stance rigid, "What's so wrong with our current plan?"

"Well," I said, motioning towards the hospital a few blocks down as Lung leaned in, "You plan on going in there in costume. And I can understand that. There may be no sign of carnage, but Hookwolf could be there in secret. If you need to fight you need to be able to defend yourself and protect your identities. I," I said, taking a breath, "don't need to care about that as much as you." Seka flinched, but Lung only nodded. I motioned for one of his ABB networked phones on the dashboard. He tossed it and I caught it, pocketing it quickly.

"So you will go in, a scout, tell us what goes wrong. We sit back, act as muscle," he said, crossing his arms, nodding his head. "Not efficient but safe, confirming our suspicions, saving us face."

"Yes," I said, moving to exit the car. "I'll leave the phone on speaker, volume on mute. You'll know if your needed or anything happens."

He nodded, leaning back, satisfied, relaxed. Seka snorted, following his example, waiting a bit, looking at me expectantly.

"Shouldn't you be going?" she said, putting a hand behind her head.

"Uh," I said, smiling sheepishly, raising the _stupidly_ complicated cellphone, at all the colors and icons on swimming on the screen, "Any idea how to use these things?"

x-x

"Sorry about dragging you away like this Officer Bronson," I said, smiling apologetically.

"It's fine, and just call me Ned," he said, waving a hand at the room we'd just left. Tall, skinny, he had a wiry cast to him. "God knows I could use the break from all those downers." I just nodded, a bit disapproving. It's not like I don't get where he's coming from. The babble of pain, the press of bodies, the scent of blood... the lobby was a mess. Everyone injured enough to come looking for help but not injured enough to be an emergency was stranded in there, handled by a small skeleton crew of overworked doctors. A few were obvious ABB members, looking pained, bedraggled and _angry._ I'd been lucky enough this man knew me, one of the guards left outside my door. He's not very prominent in my memories though so I can't remember his name. Hopefully I won't have to use it.

"So if Naoko's daughter…"

"Seka," I said, shivering. A few minutes in that pouring rain had been enough to soak my hoodie nearly all the way through. I'm just glad I didn't bring my backpack, anything in it would have been wrecked.

"Seka," Ned said, shaking his head," is so worried, why doesn't she just come herself?"

"Well," I said, hedging, biting my lip, "The gang war has her…occupied. She can't really come in person, so she sent me instead."

"Why not just call?" he said, looking at me in askance. I shrugged, doing my best to act casual. "Probably afraid she's overworking herself, putting more stress on her body. Panacea might have healed her but she's still not well, not completely."

"Still say she could have just called her up, told her to take it easy," he said, shrugging his shoulders.

"Okay," I said, stopping, turning, looking up, catching his eye, "Do you _really_ think she'd listen?"

"Oh, and you coming in will make _such_ a difference," he said, rolling his eyes. I winced, pulling my hood further down, obscuring my face. Looks like my cover story has a few holes in it. Then he sighed, placing a hand behind his head.

"Hey, it's nothing to worry about," he said apologetically," this isn't an interrogation and you guys aren't in any trouble. Not like I have any reason to turn you away, you're already on the safe list. I just get nitpicky when stressed."

"Ah, no problem," I said, awkwardly, looking around.

At least the hallways are better than the lobby, though there are a few occupied stretchers here and there. Rooms must be full. Less noise, though the scent is the same. Stronger even, intermixed with the smell of piss and vomit. I walked towards a lithe nurse mending a man, her motions patient. Hurried, but gentle. Impressive, considering her disability. It was subtle, shaded by her hair, but I spied an eye patch underneath. Frowning, I looked at her uniform. Medhall, not Suns and Crosses. Really, I should have expected this. Naoko's staff had to be stretched thin by this conflict. She probably had to outsource just to deal with the sudden demand for aid.

A strong looking man with greasy blond hair sat on the bed, glaring around. His eyes tracked the room, gazing suspiciously at everyone who passed. He looked uncomfortable, out of place, shifting like he expected an attack at any moment. I caught his gaze out of the corner of my left eye, smiling, trying to reassure him as I passed. His expression didn't change. Not at first, at least. Then, eyes widening, he turned to his nurse, engaging in a swift whispered conversation. Weird. I tuned him out, lending him some privacy, my smile dropping. That, and it became hard hear over the sudden commotion.

Metal, bed, white sheets, the men pushing silent, somber. A finger stuck out from under the sheet adorned by a simple band of golden metal. They went for the other exit, heading for the back. We kept moving. Ned seemed preoccupied though, gazing at the ceiling as we walked. I left him to my thoughts, my image going back to that simple golden band. My dad wears a ring just like that. Never takes it off. It reminds him of mom, he says. While that isn't him, the fingers too big, it _could_ have been. Easily. He works late on days like this in an office between the downtown and the docks. There isn't really any trouble around there. Usually. But with this gang war going on, and that being uncontested land… I sighed, shaking my head.

Dad has lived in Brockton Bay _forever_ ; he knows the docks better than anyone. He'll have found a place to lay low or just seen the signs, heading home long ago. He'll be fine. Really. I shivered again, pulling at my sleeve. The dampness was starting to soak through.

"Hey," Ned said, glancing my way," Why don't you just take that thing off? It's not doing you any good, might actually get sick like that."

"I'm fine," I said, shivering again. He snorted. "Well, it's just, uh," I paused, taking a moment, collecting myself.

"All I've really got under this is a running tank," I said, blushing. One of the ones from Parian's.

"Well," he said, slow, patient, "Would you rather catch a cold or just be a little embarrassed?" I turned away, shuffling my feet.

"It's like my daughter all over again," he said, turning away, mumbling under his breath. He stopped, turning to face me. I gulped, recognizing his expression. Dad used to get that same expression whenever me to do something, and do it _now._ "Now none of this teenage angst bullshit, your health comes before your pride."

"It's not pride," I said, shaking my head, "It's…"

"Are you decent?" Ned said, looking me in the eye, "Without your sweater I mean."

"Uh, yes?" I said, backing up.

"Then you have nothing to be embarrassed of," he said, sweeping his hands, encompassing the hallway. "Look around. _This is a hospital._ We have people running around half naked all the time. Hell, not too long ago _you_ were one of them, prancing around in a hospital gown, trying to give your statement."

I buried my face in my hands, skin warm enough to cook an egg. Seka's probably listening through the phone, hearing everything. I'll _never_ live this down! "Look, that's _different-"_

"Yeah, it is," he said, tapping the wall, "Now you got a choice about it. Take off the hoodie or end up in the hospital, risking even _more_ complications."

"You know what? Fine!" I said, throwing up my hands, heading for the bathroom. "I'll take off the stupid hoodie. Happy now?"

"Getting there," he said, grunting in satisfaction. I growled, pushing my way through the door. I struggled out of the damp cloth, ringing it out over a sink. The amount of water that came out actually filled the bottom for a bit, draining as I tried to squeeze out the harder to get parts. When I finished it was still damp, still wet, but not nearly as much. A lot dryer around the arms. I tied them around my waist, heading back out the bathroom door, head held high, marching up the stairs. Ned peeled himself off the wall, following behind me.

This lasted about as long as it took me to reach an intersection. I stopped, turning around, hugging myself self-consciously as Ned walked past, the air a little chilly. I followed. How big _is_ this place?

"Sorry," Ned said, not _sounding_ very sorry. He didn't turn, didn't look back. "Shouldn't have gotten after you like that. Not like I'm your father."

"It's fine," I said, letting out a breath, "You've been through something like this before. What happened to your daughter?"

"You heard that?" He said, pausing before shaking his head. "I thought I was being quiet."

"I have good hearing," I said, shrugging, motioning for him to continue. He sighed, moving forwards.

"Nothing much to tell," he said, scratching the back of his head. "Daughter tried to keep up with me on a run. It was wet, it was rainy. I told her to quit, take a rest, but she didn't want to stop. Ended up with a bad case of pneumonia." He jerked his hand, pointing back with his thumb. "We passed her a few rooms back. Thank god she doesn't have to share, if only because she might be contagious."

"Ah," I said, feeling guilty, "Sorry again for pulling you away, I wouldn't want to get between the two of you."

"As I said, its nothing, I'm on duty anyways. Not like I can just pop in and see her," he said, leading me down a hall, through a 'Staff Only' door. Hearing voices ahead I tuned in, curious. It sounded like…Officer Villers?

"-we're still not sure if it was planned or just an unfortunate accident," he said, voice weary, " but the Protectorate is being rather tight lipped about the whole thing. Understandable, given who died." I sucked in a breath. _Naoko?_

"However," he said, voice sharp, "they did find this note on her person, tucked into her back pocket. While it wasn't her handwriting there were no other prints but hers. Someone took steps to keep their identity secret. All it says is 'Go for a jog January 15th, 7:12 A.M. –C'. A rather specific letter, a rather specific time." A thump, the creak of metal. Someone must have just sat down.

"Are you quite alright?" Villers said with a note of alarm.

"Fine. Just…shocked," the other man said, heaving out a sigh. "Just please, give me a moment to compose myself. It's been a long-"

I rushed ahead, crashing through the door. Villers stood, shock quickly replaced by exasperation as a PRT Captain sprung to his feet, helmet blank, producing a gun from somewhere inside his armor.

"Halt! I- Tays?" he said, arm dropping, quickly replacing his gun. The helmet made it muffled, but I _recognize_ that voice.

"Don?" I said, staring. He removed his helmet quickly, a bemused smile on his face.

"Tays," Villers said, a grin forming, eyes crinkling, " _Just_ Tays?"

" _Yes,"_ I said, glaring. He winced and my glare faltered, anger fading to guilt. I cleared my throat, eying the room, looking for Naoko. Some chairs, some video screens. A cup half coffee, a plate with crumbs. Villers, Don, Ned running coming behind me. "Where's Naoko?" I said, eying the cameras.

"Naoko? She's fine" Villers said, brow furrowed, head tilted. "Why?"

"I was worried," I said, taking a breath. "With all the gangs in the street I thought someone might try something, so, well…" I looked around, eyes flickering between Villers, Don and Ned. Don's eyes tracked mine swiftly and he moved, heading towards Ned.

"I'm sorry Officer, but I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to leave." Don said, nodding at Ned. "This is classified information."

"Really. Don't mind me then, got work to do," Ned said, heading out the door. He gave me a nod, a little curious, a little suspiscious. He closed the door and I breathed a sigh, turning towards Villers.

"Is _he_ qualified to know this?" I said, jerking my head towards Don.

"More qualified than me," Villers said, smiling at me tiredly. He didn't bring up our last few meetings, for which I was silently grateful. "The PRT are actually supposed to know these things. I merely made a lucky guess."

"I certainly wouldn't have guessed earlier, but you must be Foxfire," he said, flashing me a grin. "It must have been your age, wouldn't have guessed her to be fifteen."

"You thought I was older," I said, rolling my eyes. Don chuckled before motioning for me to take a seat. I did, sitting myself down with a sigh. I rubbed my arms, trying to chase away the chill. I need to get a sweatshirt to cover myself better. One of those frumpy ones, they'd be cheap enough. Way better than a _hundred dollar tank top._

Parians prices are just a _little_ over the top.

"So what did you come here for?" Don said, steepling his fingers.

"I have reason to believe that Hookwolf is after Naoko," I said, looking him in the eye. He froze for a second before turning to Villers.

"This is only proving my point. It is _imperative_ that I escort Miss Nakane from the premises. She's not safe here, not anymore."

"I would have agreed with you sooner," Villers said, frowning towards Don," but we _still_ can't get ahold of the PRT main base. However if Hookwolf is here for her, this changes things." Villers turned to me, inclining his head. "Where did you get this information?"

"Myself," I said, manifesting my ball. It was small, barely there. A little bauble. I tossed it between my hands nervously, trying to keep the jitters down. "I chased him down, tracking him here from the Casino in the docks. I lost sight of him a few blocks down, but I'm certain he is somewhere in the area." I heard a shift from Don but didn't look over, trying to convey the gravity of the situation. Villers sighed, leaning back, rubbing his head.

"Fine," he said, nodding to Don," I'm giving you the go ahead. Your codes checked out, and Lord knows _I_ can't think of anything better, what with this damnable headache."

"Don't worry sir, I'll get the job done," Don said, smiling sharply, eyes like flint. "I've never failed a mission. Not about to start now."

"Good," Villers said, still rubbing his head. "If the force was only _half_ as dedicated as you we might have swept the crime from Brockton Bay. Now get going, we can't afford to waste time."

He nodded, moving for the door. I followed, moving as the escort-

The wall burst in. I stared at whirling blades, clashing metal, and a giant, wolf shaped maw.


	4. Chapter 4

**Dreaming of Foxfire Part 2: Kitsune Bias  
**

Kitsune Bias 1.1

"Run," I said, manifesting my ball. Hookwolf noticed, retreating, jerking his head. "I'll hold him off."

"Sierra, now is not the time for heroics!" Villers said, running to my side. I pushed him away, a long clawed limb swinging through the hole, flinging blades throughout the room. Hurried, blind, they struck no one, impacting on the far right wall. Don cocked his gun, firing at the arm. As far as I could tell that did nothing.

"We should listen to her," he said, holstering his gun. "We won't be of any use here."

"And she will?" Villers said, struggling himself upright.

"I've fought him before," I said, backing away as the claw searched the room, randomly throwing furniture and debris. "I'll be fine."

" _When_?" he said, gritting his teeth. He stood, stopped, and stood again, hand on the wall, catching his balance.

"Today," I said, taking a breath. "When he first came here, he was running from me." Villers stared. I met his gaze, nodding slowly.

"We don't have time for this," Don said, facing the slowly caving wall. "Make your decision Officer, and make it quick."

"Go," I said, nodding towards the clawed appendage. It grew closer as Hookwolf broke further into the building, starting to tear into the infrastructure. "We don't have much time." He frowned, eyes narrowing, but didn't respond, nodding towards Don.

"I'll handle the civilians. You have the go ahead," he said, jerking his head towards Hookwolf. "Where there is one, there might be another."

"Agreed," Don said, striding out the door, closely followed by Villers. He didn't look back. Villers paused, nodding back at me, gaze serious.

"Good luck," he said, stopping just before the door. "Be careful, don't try anything too heroic."

"But isn't being heroic what heroes do? Why people admire them so much?" I said, grinning weakly.

"Yes," he said, shaking his head sadly. "But few live long enough to enjoy it." He left, marching towards the lobby. I frowned, pushing his words away, turning towards the searching paw. The hole his head had created widened, metal rent, wall crumbling. The building creaked, foundation buckled. I took a breath, focusing, leaping through the wall over the limb of deadly metal. First goal, lead him away.

Once outside I looked up, catching his eye. The screeches stopped, the arms retracted. He removed himself from the hole, building forgotten, turning to face me. I leapt away, feet pounding, jumping over cars, holding my ball as a beacon. He followed.

My hand raised forming white and blue flames, ready to fling at a moment's notice. I waited, gathering five before turning, flinging them behind me. They flew, curving in their path, powerful bolts of burning flame searing his dark metal eyes. Well, that's what I expected.

Hookwolf laughed, a grating, screeching, yet somehow _deep_ sound, feet pounding as we reached the open street. I stumbled as I ran, the weight of his footsteps shaking the ground, getting closer by the second.

This isn't working. He's gaining quickly, I expected, _remembered_ being able to outrun him. It had been more of a game than a chase. Effortless. Easy. It wasn't the form though; I'm just as fast now, more or less. Is whatever is making him immune to my fire now also making him faster?

No. His legs aren't moving any faster than earlier. Before I'd led him on a chase through alleys, on rooftops, changing directions frequently, mostly on a whim. Now? Flat ground, open road. Wiping my eyes I peered through the drizzle as metal tore the road, only getting closer. Just two more blocks till the ambush but I'm not going to make it. Not at this rate, he'll catch me first. Metal screeched, claws rent to the ground. I leapt to the right, curling myself to a ball, springing myself upright, narrowly avoiding the giant claw aiming to take my head off as Hookwolf leapt past, crashing into the streets on four limbs as he turned to chase me.

I leapt _up,_ catching a sign, pulling myself up the frontal advertising of the small local store. Caught a flag, jumped a balcony, stepped on a windowsill and I was up, turning to face the metal wolf sitting three stories down. He wasn't clawing a wall, attempting to climb. He merely stared upwards, prowling around the front. I slumped, resting on the balcony. More mental than physical, but it felt right, needed.

"You are different than before, weaker" he said, scratching and clanging. I winced, barely stopping myself from covering my ears. "You acquitted yourself well for a yellow skin with cunning, presence, and strength. Where has that warrior gone? Why do I now face a child?"

"A child?" I said, standing up straight, twinging at the reference, "I was good enough to distract you from your goal."

"My goal," he said with a screeching metallic laugh, "Is _you._ We have unfinished business, warrior, our fight was never finished."

"So," I said, mouth dry, heart pounding, "You _weren't_ there for Naoko or the Hospital?"

"No. I wasn't. In fact," he said, prowling past the corner, circling the building, forcing me to move with him. I turned, navigating around the rooftop, leaning over the edge. He smiled, wolf face stretching into a sharp toothed feral grin. "If you weren't there I would have done nothing."

Implying others _would_ have. Stil…

I breathed, closing my eyes, hugging myself to get rid of the sudden chill. Calm down, it's not my fault, I couldn't have known. I had good reasons to expect an attack. No one got hurt, anyways.

But it could have been worse. _Much_ worse.

"Well, if I _am_ your goal," I said, raising my chin as I leaned on rail, "Looks like you have just _failed_. I'm too high up and not about to fight like a 'warrior' for the sake of your _twisted_ pride." I turned away from the edge, reaching for the phone. It should still be on speaker, so Seka and Lung will be here soon enough. I could speed things up by telling them where I am and what I know, to send someone to check the hospital.

"It seems," he said, voice echoing through the roof, "that I was wrong earlier. You aren't just weaker. No matter how you look, how similar you seem, you are another person entirely."

"What," I said, trying to figure out how to make the phone work, "makes you say that?"

"The woman I fought before was experienced. She had seen battle before, treating our chase like it was a _game._ She taunted me, mocked me, and led me along, forcing me and my allies to react to _her._ With cunning, skill and power she predicted us, nearly defeating us with a single blow," he said, shaking his head, voice growing harsher, stronger. "Though you have power you show more luck than skill, more instinct than cunning. Where she planned you merely react, stopping as soon as you perceive a weakness or a way out. Even as she stepped aside she never let her guard down, watching me as an eagle does its prey." That sounds…Ominous. I put down my phone, replacing it in my pocket, moving to the side where Hookwolf stood, staring up at the roof, head lowered.

"I'm sorry," I said, manifesting the ball in my right hand, studying Hookwolf where he stood, "but that was me. There was no mistake. " What had he done? Something changed. He sounded too confident, too smug near the end.

"I don't believe that. You may have similar powers but so do Fenja and Menja. Same powers, different people," he said, head still unmoving. "And she would not have been surprised so easily." My eyes widened, I moved back even as his head snapped upwards, spears _flying_ from his mouth. I _moved,_ leaping backwards, hand to my mouth, muffling a scream as his spears pierced the rooftop, ripping, _tearing_ my right hand off.

"You see," Hookwolf said, voice nearing, " _That_ is the difference. She would have predicted this, expected this, or at least been ready to dodge _away_ from the spear, not towards it. You jerked, you panicked, you moved by instinct. I tested you earlier; your move too fast. I would have never hit you had I aimed for you. Instead of aiming where you stood I aimed for where you _would_ be."

Ignoring him, I focused on my arm, on stemming the flow of blood. With one hand I untied my hoodie from around my waist, fastening it to what is left of my right arm. The blood didn't stop, the tie wasn't tight but it _helped,_ helping me breathe, letting my mind resume focus. Back during the kidnapping when I was hit by a grenade I'd _healed_ myself. The details were vague and the memories blurry but one thing was certain. It required essence. Lots and lots of essence. I looked inward, checking my meager reserves. Though some had recovered from my earlier fight it wasn't a lot, _maybe_ enough to heal my hand. But I have to try. I reached inside myself, focusing, _willing_ my hand to heal.

All but a flicker of my essence disappeared, my tie came undone and I _breathed,_ slowly flexing my hand. It was back, just like that. I got up from where I fell, moving feeling a distant tug. I know the distance, know the location, and know the item. My ball, waiting to return. Hookwolf pulled himself over, thinner, bipedal, his head still the visage of a wolf. He paused, studying me a second.

"I didn't think I missed."

"You didn't," I said, breathing heavily, moving closer to the right. The tug came from down and to the left, stronger, more insistent.

"That hand was yours? Ah, a healing factor. I'll remember that when I next face your sister," he said, looming over me, twenty feet of plates and blades. His arms rippled with faux muscles, similar, big, but something just _wrong_ about the movements. He stood, tensed, _exploding_ into motion.

I dodged his first fist, leaping into the air. His second burst out, moving to intercept even as the first was recalled, grasping through air. My essence turned to a spark as I didn't quite fly but I _moved,_ twisting in the air, running up his arm to the head. His head bucked, arm turning to a mass of blades. I stepped upon them, shifting, twisting, somehow finding semblance of true footing in a dance of death. As his other moved I leapt, shoes in tatters, calling for the ball. There was a roar in the background, Lung noticing the fight. My essence _burned,_ past my spark, into my veil. One tail. Two. Threefourfives-

The ball _flew_ to my hand, a round hole through the roof, blasting through an arm, tearing through his head, falling apart in a mass of plates and blades. I landed, breathing heavily, waiting for him to fall, to topple, to gasp, _anything._

He just laughed, headless, arm gone, both steadily repairing, head slower than the arm.

I missed. He was _lower._

"So," he said, a pleased note in his voice, "That was a trap. It _is_ you after all. I was wondering where the tails and ears went, if they were just part of a costume. Changer as well. Nice attempt, but it failed. I wouldn't want to put my actual self in anywhere as obvious as the _head._ "

"It's the right leg isn't it," I said, baring my teeth. He paused, looking down at me.

"You noticed the growth of my blades," he said, shaking his head. "Your right. That's where I _was._ "

I'd underestimated him before, back when I first fought him. Strong. Versatile. Good in a fight.

I should have finished him when I had the-

I slapped myself, breathing harder, eying my seven tails. The ball had taken everything, I barely had enough left for my veil. It would regain, but for now if I used the veil I had left I could _maybe_ send a volley of foxfires. Three, no more. He already demonstrated how _ineffective_ they were. Lung roared again. Closer, but too far off. I'm too tired, too out of energy. I can't run, and he wouldn't get here in time. He must have gone to the hospital when the fight first started, hearing a crash in the distance.

"Goodbye, warrior," Hookwolf said, nodding his head, limbs fully regrown. I stood, readying myself to move. I have one last leap in me, one last attempt to escape. I crouched, tensing. When he charged, I was ready.

I _threw_ myself to the side as far as I could manage, air rushing by as I released the last of my veil. Eight. Nine.

Over the edge.

The ground loomed as I fell from the roof, grey cement and black road. A tree, old, dead, and wild stood in the path of my flight. I reached out, making a grab for a branch. It broke. I did it again. Same result. Five tries, five broken branches. Closing my eyes from the stinging branches I neared the ground, rushing head first.

I stopped, maybe two feet from a concrete death. My tails stretched behind me, taking ahold of the center of the tree, using the opening in the branches I'd made on the way down. They burned, my entire body in pain, but that doesn't matter. I pursed my lips as my fingers reached my mouth letting out a high, piercing whistle before my tails let go and I tumbled to the ground. I rolled, bringing myself upright, panting as I ran.

The ground rumbled behind me, earth shaking. I stumbled, a bolt of steel piercing through where I'd been, hitting the cement, glancing off towards the road. Hookwolf roared as I turned the corner of the store, claws ripping and stone crumbling as he tore his way from the alley, spears protruding, head first. A burst of heat, a flash of silver on high. Lung dropped down and the steel wolf _buckled._

I slowed, turned, but kept my distance, waiting, watching, looking for an advantage.

Lung may be taller but Hookwolf is still _bigger_ , full grown at twenty feet long. His head is huge, his shoulders wide. It would give him an advantage in most situations, though in this it only serves to restrict him. The alleyway can barely hold him, restricting his movements, boxing him in. Still, he kept the form, kept the size, stubbornly clawing with his small, restricted motions. Idiotic, considering how _variable_ he seems to be. Luckily, Lung seemed to share my opinion of his chosen form, and caught on right away.

Lung dropped off Hookwolf's bulk, occupying the entrance of the alleyway. He struck the ground, tearing up the cement, an attack meant to hem, not to harm. Then he stood, roared, raising his claws, striking _down_ at Hookwolfs rising form, buying himself more time to grow, to shift, to turn the fight further in his favor. A good strategy, a solid plan. A shame it didn't actually work.

Hookwolf surged upwards, throwing off Lung. He broke through the cement, ignoring the searching claws as he forged his way forwards, steadily pushing Lung back. Lungs clawed him, hammered, blasted him with fire, all seeming to do nothing to the surface of his blades. That hadn't happened earlier. He hadn't been immune to my foxfire either, though Lung seemed to take it in stride.

He shifted from attacks to deterrents, focusing more on pushing or redirecting Hookwolf while giving himself time to heal. Not panicking or faltering he started a steady retreat, backing away towards the entrance of the alley. Familiar. Rehearsed. Both for Lung and Hookwolf. Not really winning, but not afraid of losing. A side ability? A timed effect? Another, varied, Parahuman effect? Whatever the case, I have pressing issues.

Once again I whistled, this one higher, softer. Lung shoved Hookwolf backwards, turning briefly to grasp at me. He took me in, my ruffled clothes, bare feet, and barely glowing ball. I moved closer, holding out my hand, open, palm up, fingers curling in invitation.

He nodded as he turned back to the fight, letting his fires die low. I leapt on his back, laying a hand on his shoulder, and _pulled._ Lung sagged, staggered, falling to his knees. I leapt off, landing on the street. Hookwolf saw, and _surged._

He stopped moving conventionally, a shifting mass of steel. His head, claws and part of his torso dissolved. A moving, scratching, invincible tide of blades. Lung rose, trying to escape but they _surrounded_ him, whirring, spinning, digging into flesh. The back of the wolf stopped coming apart, more blades seeming to simply appear. Lung clawed, growling, biting, throwing off his weakness, but it did no good. I watched. Nothing else unraveled, yet more blades came. Same spot, same pattern, same general direction.

 _Perfect._

I _surged_ through the air _,_ flying over blades on a wave of essence. Controlled, directed, near instantaneous, by the time he noticed I was at the center of his torso. He acted, pulling in, recalling all his blades.

"Tsk," I said, grinning, holding my ball to his torso. The blades froze, attacks stopped. Lung got to his feet behind me, backing away, his blood dripping. "When I asked your location earlier I didn't expect a lie."

"What reason would I have to tell you the truth?" Hookwolf asked, his voice deep but normal, gruff and _recognizable._ His blades didn't move, staying where they were.

"Well, none at the time," I admitted, brushing back a stray lock of hair, "But for now you should be _deeply_ motivated. You see, I'm here looking for answers."

"Answers I will not give," he said, steel scraping behind me.

"You don't really have much of a choice," I said, patting him gently as his blades began to spin.

"Settle down, rest easy, it's nothing about you," I said, moving closer with a grin, "I'm _far_ more interested in your little partners in crime. The ones sent to kill Naoko of course."

He clammed up, silent. Not a movement, not a word. Lung stirred, walking away, footsteps heading in the direction of the hospital. Well. Looks like my guess was spot on after all.

"Thank you," I said, smiling at Hookwolf, patting his torso. Something writhed, roiling under the skin but stopped after a moment. "You have been most helpful."

"I didn't say anything," he said, blades rising, the metal around me writhing.

"Your silence was answer enough," I said, tracing my ball against his torso. The metal stopped, lying quiescent, a loose circle of deadly knives and blades. I smiled, ball alight, shaking my head. "Well this was fun, but it's about time to end."

Metal crashed at my back as the noose of blades tightened. Blades lengthened and thickened as my ball shed a glow, a whirl of death next to Hookwolf's torso. He moved, desperate, noose still tightening, his body moved _up,_ away from my glowing.

I smiled, I laughed, time running away, "Goodbye, Warrior," I said.

And then leapt away.

x-x

Kitsune Bias 1.2

"Kenta,"

"Foxfire," he said, nodding to me as he shouldered on a duster. "Or is it Sierra right now?"

"I guess," I said, rubbing my arms. His car hummed across the road as we approached the hospital, "Uh, you wouldn't happen to any spare coats, would you?"

"I do not. There is a towel in the back, under the seat."

"Thanks."

I moved to the back of the car, the old-style leather seats smooth to the touch. Actually getting the towel took a few tries, there wasn't much room under there and I didn't want to ruin his leather with my dripping wet clothes. Well, more than I already had. Green, worn, faded with age, it didn't really match what I expected from him. Then again, he'd be kind of stupid to go around with an ABB towel in his civilian car. I toweled myself off best I could, spending some time trying to shake the water from my hair. Light rain is still rain, especially when you're running.

"I assume you took care of Hookwolf," Kenta said, eying me through the rearview mirror.

"Sort of?" I said, cringing, "I got him scared and…threatened him I guess, but didn't kill him or arrest him or anything. Um, though I'm pretty sure he didn't follow, I watched him run away. Towards empire territory this time."

Kenta moved, pressing a few buttons on the dash. "Hookwolf has escaped towards the Rat district. Do not engage, fall back for now."

 _"_ _Well at least we had to only deal with the mooks, not the end boss. Yeah, I read you. Frank out."_

Kenta pulled his hand from the button, letting it rest on the wheel. Not pushing it, but it was obvious. He'd made his point. "What else should I know?"

"Well," I said, watching him park, "I think I might know one of their capes, or at least an infiltrator. There was this girl treating a greasy hair blonde man, who I'm _pretty sure_ is Hookwolf. Anyways, she was a little out of place. Medhall, not Crosses and Suns, about the only one that Hookwolf seemed comfortable with. A little taller than me, blond hair, eye patch hidden beneath it, draped over her left eye."

"Othalla."

"That's my guess," I said, nodding my head.

"Victor, too."

I paused, thinking, staring out the window. "I didn't see any evidence of another empire cape. How can you be so sure?"

"I have never seen one without the other," Kenta said. "Their powers work to well together. I have little proof but believe them to be behind most sabotage centered on my group. He is a skill vampire. What he doesn't have, he steals."

"Could he have stolen someone's identity?"

"Possible," he said, tapping the wheel, "But also unlikely."

"But he could have stolen their skills," Mind racing back to earlier today. "Their clothes. Their codes."

"Their actions," Kenta said. "He impersonated Oni Lee to get our shipment charts. It failed, as he could not teleport."

"Mmm," I said, trying to _not_ think about what he might be shipping, "Chief Villers mentioned something about several PRT guards going missing, and just recently mentioned a communication blackout."

"Ah, then this is why your phone cut out," he said, shaking his head as he moved out the door. "We were unable to hear anything but static as you moved further in, closer to the building. Seka grew worried, going in after her mother."

"Really?" I asked, heart pounding a bit, "But…that's big, that's really big! How would they do it?"

"Pay a specialist," he said, shrugging his shoulders.

"Pay a specialist," I echoed, giving it some thought. Obviously he meant a tinker. But aren't they expensive? "This operation must mean a lot for them."

"Indeed," he said, opening the doors. "Upsetting it will mean more to me."

We walked in, wading through the press of bodies. I raised a hand, signaling to Ned. He saw us, nodded, and waved us in. Easier and faster than last time we found ourselves in the halls, walking through the corridors of blue and white. Kenta strode ahead, head high, intense, casually studying every Medhall employee we may have passed. Most ignored him, carrying on their jobs, though some shied away, looking frightened. I observed them from the corner of my eye, tuning my ears to whatever they did.

Where one was, there might be others.

Ned is leading the way of course, though earlier he had actually offered me his jacket. I declined because I'm pretty sure I'm not allowed to go around dressed like the police. Honestly I'm just glad he didn't bring up what happened earlier. About the only good thing that came from the phone interference is that Seka _hadn't_ heard what happened. Probably. Maybe. At least I hope we were deep enough…

"Sierra?"

"This is about the second time you've used that name as a question," I said, sighing as turned to Officer Villers.

"To be fair the first time I was merely surprised to see you. This time you're simply so wet I _could_ have been mistaken," he said, frowning. No sign of his headache, he seemed much better than before, eyes shining, a spring in his steps, a twist in his gait. He turned sharply, motioning to one of the men beside him. "Get a sweater for this poor girl, would you Steve?"

"Sure," said Steve, grinning as he moved closer, "What's her size?"

"Steve," Villers said, pinching his nose, "Stop that. _She's fifteen."_ Steve blanched, backpedaling, looking away quickly.

Shaking my head I motioned Villers over, trying to ignore Steve as he backed away. "Maybe another time, but for now we _really_ need to talk."

"Is Hookwolf still on the loose?" Villers asked, his brows furrowing concernedly.

"No," I said, "but it might be worse. We need to talk, in private. It concerns Naoko. We think there might be another attempt on her life."

Villers stared, nodded, turning towards Kenta. "I assume 'we' includes this gentleman here?"

"Naoko and her daughter hired me on as a contractor," Kenta said, arms crossed and voice rumbling. "I am here to protect them from threats."

"Trust me," I said, "He's been a lot of help."

Villers leaned back, hand on his chin as he took us both in. His eyes roamed, studying our appearance, our clothes, lingering on my bare feet and torn up jeans. He sized Kenta up, meeting his gaze. Kenta remained still, appearing calm, professional. Nodding sharply Villers turned, motioning us to follow. "Come along then, there's a secure room not too far from here. Best not dally too long, movement keeps the body healthy. And Steve, please do get Sierra that sweater. Can't have her catching pneumonia from something like this."

"Right away sir!"

I sighed, looking away, rolling my eyes. Villers walked ahead briskly, long legs eating up the corridors distance. He paused, reaching for the door, nodding briefly towards the both of us, disappearing inside rather shortly. Kenta turned towards me, an amused look on his face as we moved down, sole occupants of the hallway. "Fifteen."

I looked away, blushing fiercely. Really! It can't be _that_ hard to believe!

x-x

Kitsune Bias 1.3

Villers closed the door as we entered the room, taking a seat across from us. Pretty sure this isn't a security room, it looks more like a break room. But seeing how empty the hospital is, well, it's probably more secure than the actual security room, not even counting the giant hole Hookwolf put in the wall. Villers walked to the windows, closing the blinds before he sat down, glancing between Kenta and I. "Well then, does someone want to fill me in?"

I nodded. "We know who's out to kill Naoko and how they might do it."

"Othalla and Victor have infiltrated the hospital," Kenta said, waving a hand. "Sierra knows who Othalla is, or has a close guess. Victor is a disguised PRT agent."

"Might be," I cautioned.

"Most likely," he said.

Villers raised a hand, a silent call for peace. He reached into his pocket, taking out a notepad and a pen. "Explain."

"I saw who I think is Othalla earlier, treating who I _know_ is Hookwolf," I said. "I recognized his voice, and he freaked out when he saw me earlier, had a really intense conversation for our Othalla suspect."

"I can see why you would suspect Hookwolf, but what makes you suspect Othalla?" Villers asked, jotting down notes, eyes never leaving my face.

"When, uh, when I fought Hookwolf before I came to the hospital I was able to damage him. Foxfires, spare debris, everything I threw at him caused _some_ kind of dent or damage to his blades. This last fight? I couldn't hurt him with anything besides my ball, which I think just straight out disintegrates matter."

"Fair enough." Villers said, inclining his head, "I'll concede on the possibility for Othalla, and the definitive of Hookwolf. What about Victor?"

Kenta shifted in his seat, sitting straighter. "I suspect Victor to be here because Othalla is never without a partner. Hookwolf was too removed, fighting in the ABB district at first."

"You were there to witness this?" Villers asked, raising a brow.

"Yes." Kenta said with a nod, "I drove Sierra here from that fight, chasing him. He was wounded."

Villers blinked, shaking his head. "Well, can't say I've ever heard of Hookwolf being wounded before, but that's sufficient argument to argue for an increased defense detail around Naoko, though I'm not convinced about the PRT." He rose from his seat, walking to the door at a fairly rapid pace to pull someone in and whisper a few orders. The man nodded, leaving quickly. Villers retook his seat, motioning for us to continue.

"I have no direct proof," Kenta said, tapping his leg, "But I have dealt with Victor on occasions."

"With? As in…"

"Against."

"Ah," Villers said, nodding. "I take it you have ways to identify him?"

Kenta leaned back, cracking his neck. "Not him, exactly, but a few of the effects of his powers. Headaches that appear or disappear with surprising suddeness, lingering clumsiness in certain areas, mental blocks, the inability to think in certain ways or patterns."

I stopped watching Kenta after a while, turning to Villers from the corner of my eye. As Kenta spoke Villers frowned, lines growing darker and deeper at every word. I saw it, and he got it too. This was him not too long ago. Villers tapped his pen, putting the notebook away. "This happened to me earlier today. A sudden headache followed by what seemed to be a growing mental block, independent from any other symptoms. It also disappeared rather quickly after Hookwolf appeared, but was at its strongest just before. It lingers still, but not nearly as bad. Why do you suspect that he's impersonating the PRT?"

"Because of the dead or missing PRT members," I said. "They were all located-"

"Yes, yes. Come, walk with me," Villers said, moving quickly for the door. Kenta followed, with me a moment behind. We rounded the corner, bumping into Steve, who turned to face me.

"Hey, so got that sweater you needed. Listen, I'm very sorry about earlier, really wasn't-"

"Steve. Now is not the time, though thank you for the sweater," Viller said, taking the offered garment. "But I need you do something important for me right now. Keep an eye on Don, make sure he's not alone with Naoko. Try to keep them seperated, call for backup. Don't be outright accusative as this is not an arrest."

Wait. _Don?_

Steve nodded, serious, but there was a small grin tugging on his face. "So I take it you're taking command again?"

"Yes," Villers said, rolling his eyes, "I would hardly leave it in the hands of a suspect."

"Good to hear Chief," he said, saluting as he walked away. "Anything else I should be aware of?"

Villers hummed, nodding. "Expect Master or Stranger influence. Decrease in ability and skill, headaches or the like. The range should be thirty feet."

Steve nodded as he disappeared around the corner. I hurried up, turning to Villers as we walked. "Don? Really?"

"Yes."

"What makes you think he's Victor?"

Villers inclined his head as we passed through the door. "He was with me during the duration of my block, and there when my headache was at its greatest. He is also the only PRT Officer on the premises."

"There could have been any number of reasons this is wrong though! Maybe Victor doesn't need to even be in the room, just see you. He could have had the place bugged. He could have had spy cameras. Maybe just a hole in the wall, enough to see you by. He could have been looking through the window, or something like that. I mean, he's probably not even PRT if it's _that_ obvious that he could be one!"

Villers paused and I stopped, arms trembling, breathing heavily. He turned to face me with a concerned look on his face, his eyes roaming, if just for a second. "Ah, right. You know Don, don't you?"

"Yes, I do. The same Don that's here," I said,

"Are you positive?" Lung asked. "Victor is a great actor. He could have fooled you, easily.

I turned to glare at him. "Even if he _could_ , he wouldn't have known to call me Tays."

"I overheard you, as did Seka," Kenta rumbled.

"That's just because you were right next to us! I mean Goonies is busy during the day, I doubt anyone else was paying attention, but you guys _literally_ just took over and jacked his spot. At that distance, it would be hard not to!"

"Oh?" he said, sounding amused. "That's not how I remember it."

My hand waved to cut him off as I took a breath, steadying myself. "Look, that's not _exactly_ how it happened, but it's close enough to be the truth. The point is, Don isn't Victor."

"While I'm not usually inclined to take passion as evidence," Villers said, chuckling, "You certainly sound like you knew each other rather well, so I'm inclined to trust you on this one."

"Yes. I mean not-" I stopped, breathing in a calming breath. In, out. In, out. I did this for a while, opening my eyes, a little bit calmer. "I mean we didn't know each other _long_ , but I know for certain that he _is_ Don."

"Really now?" Villers said with a grin, resuming his steady walk down the halls, "Interesting. I must admit I don't know much about the man myself. Would you care to describe him?"

"Well," I said, thinking back, "I mean, I maybe don't know much about his personal life, but let's see. He's a PRT captain of course and he's nice, intelligent, funny, tells these _really_ great stories, has some amazing insights on-"

Kenta snorted, cutting me off. I eyed him, expecting him to have that more amused expression, but he looked more contemplative than anything, shaking his head at some inwards joke, probably at my expense. Sighing, I faced back to front.

"So," Villers said, eyes seeming to twinkle as he reached for a door, "when did you two meet?"

Kicking my feet I avoided his gaze, which seemed _way_ too knowing. "Just today actually, around 12:30 for lunch. I caught him at the start of his break, and, well, we'd been talking before, so…"

"Wait," Villers said, turning quickly from the door. "You said 12:30, right?"

I blinked. "Yes, and?"

"Sierra, according to our investigations the PRT squad disappeared fifteen minutes _before_ that. We haven't been able to get ahold of them, what with this blasted Radio silence, but…"

 _Beat_

"Then he is the traitor, or the one who did it," Kenta said as I hurried to catch up with him. Kenta outpaced the both of us, long legs easily eating the ground. His movements seemed to _change_ somewhat, though nothing else did, somehow reminding me more of a _predator_ than anything human. "The solution is obvious."

 _No._ "…Yes," I said, pushing that though away along with the lump in my throat. "Yes. I guess it does."

While I tried to make sense of my feelings Steve rounded the corner, almost bumping into us. He stopped when he saw us, backpedaling, but his uniform seemed rumpled, his hair in minor disarray. He'd been running.

"Naoko's gone. Seka too," Steve said, pausing to take a much needed breath. "He took them, I saw them outside. They're heading for the van."

x-x

Interlude: Bakuda

We hummed along at a decent pace, slowly winding our way through the damp grey lot, the other cars our obstacles, company and rivals. Shifting in my seat I looked out the window, staring back at the hospital, hoping to somehow halt my thoughts.

Seventeen. Seventeen ways to turn this van into a bomb. Seventeen ways to die messily. Doing my damndest to ignore them, I resorted to counting the cars as we passed.

"Ninety-nine bombs with four wheels in the lot, ninety-nine bombs with four wheels…"

"Seka," mom said, coming from my side. Her hands were clenched, her body seemed tense. "Not helping. Stop. _Please."_

"Sorry," I said, stopping.

I'd been hoping to rile the asshole up front, not make my mom's anxiety worse. She'd been jumpy ever since we hopped in the van, eyes roving, searching for threats. I'd seen her like this a few times before, and bothering her now is a _bad idea._

Kicking back in my seat I tried to relax, fiddling with my phone. No bars. Service throughout the city had been pretty shitty, so it wasn't surprising. Empire 88 made their move; this must be one of their precautions. Funny how it only seemed to kick in _after_ the fight.

Reaching down, I felt along the bottom of my purse. The folds were hidden, artfully at times, made to resemble patterns and _feel_ like patterns unless you knew what to look for. I picked the oorb located off to the side, hidden under the vast piles of junk.

 _Flick, click. Flick, click._

Don shifted, twitching in place."What are you doing?"

"Just playing with my compact."

He turned in his seat, face inscrutable under his full head helmet. "Can I see it?"

Rustling my bag a bit, I pulled out my compact. _Flick, click. Flick, click._ "A little jumpy there. I thought you said we'd be _safe_."

"We're not out of the danger zone yet," he said, turning back to the front. "You can never be too careful."

"Such wonderful fucking words of wisdom," I said, clapping with aplomb. As obvious as I could make it, idiots like him need all the help they can get. "One must always strive to protect others from themselves."

Don ignored me, tapping the wheel as we reached the main roadway. It was a quick staccato. Morse. I learned it in history class, back when I had a teacher who didn't just ape the book. It made for an interesting few days, but I barely remember any of it. Let's see… I, C, K, E, T, Stop, D, E, T…

Mom rose up, squinting out the window. "Is that Sierra?"

"Yeah, that's her," I said, turning to look. She was leaping around like a jackrabbit, tails streaming out behind her, quickly gaining on the van. Wait. One, three, five, nine…

She's serious. Totally, bitchingly, amazingly, serious. I'd only seen her pull that out whenever she needed to, when all hell starts to break loose. Ladies and gentleman, this is official. We're up shit creek and we've lost our boat.

The tapping resumed, having stopped when mom turned. Don seemed to be humming something under his breath, a bit of an anthem. It sounded German.

O, N, A, T, E, Stop, C..

And here I was beginning to think he was only an idiot.

I dove for my purse, tossing my compact as I went. It glanced off the back of his helmet, breaking to bits, but just sat there, tapping away at the wheel, his fingers moving with ever greater flourishes. Unnecessary. We _both_ knew that. If there was a charge, someone else blowing the charge, they would damn well blow it anyways! Not this Morse code _bullshit._ He's toying with us.

That _fucker._

My hand reached the purse, mind racing furiously. Sierra's coming. I have three options. Electro bomb, explosives, and time bomb.

Electro bomb, three settings. Search, stun, and lethal. Search is useless, stun might be an emp. Stop the bomb? No guarantee, could be mechanical. Using lethal is admitting I'm about to die, trying to take out someone who didn't seem worried about a _bomb_ along with me. That's out.

Explosive, same problem as lethal. _Useless._

Time bombs. Slow an area of about thirty feet in diameter in time. Useful, sure, _but not if you're in it._ From the outside you're slowed. People looking in will see you moving in stopgap motions. It would help buy time, but that's _all_ it would do. When you're in the bubble everything moves at normal speed, everything not outside. Up to, and including, _giant fucking explosions._

I'd built this thing as a weapon, not a life support. Something to buy me time while simultaneously letting my enemies know just how screwed they truly are. I didn't make it so the people inside would survive. The way I designed this was effectively the _opposite._ Let loose whatever I wanted outside, and laugh at the idiots inside.

This time, I might just end up one of the idiots on the inside. And _I_ _really_ don't like being played the fool.

There's still a chance. A small, micro biotic, singular chance.

Using the bomb would buy time. Precious, precious time. If he's close to finishing as I think he is? Two minutes. No more. Less if the bomb's located _inside_ the van. No one in Brockton Bay could breach my time field, that I know of at least. Maybe someone in the greater Protectorate could, but no one available. No one _here._ Even if the local Protectorate got off their asses and decided to move their collective behinds, Velocity is the only one who could get here in time, the speedster who can barely even affect reality.

Only a trump, time cape, breaker or teleporter would be able to help us here, and the closest Brockton has to that is _Clockblocker_.

But if the jamming ever stops, if my field somehow disrupts the signal… Sierra could make the call. Someone might actually come. Still a chance to live, up for gamble. And I've never been a quitter.

H, A, R, G, E, Stop, N, O, W, Stop.

Time bomb it is. A twist, a squeeze, and my hands began to _slow._ I leapt for mom, moving her closer to the effect, holding a last, frantic, desperate embrace, she turned, confused, but returned it all the same. The floor bucked beneath our feet as the effect began to spread. I closed my eyes, taking a breath. Long, deep, and possibly my last. Whatever happens outside will be done before it ends. Heat, a flash, inhale…

Exhale. Bracing myself, I cracked open my eyes.

"No shit," I breathed, taking in the scene. "You can move through time."

Sierra stood before me, tails orbiting her body. Shrapnel and fire flew in the background, highlighting her profile as she glared through the van. She didn't seem playful or amused, unlike what I've seen from her before. Her face was hard, a snarl of rage. Canines were prominent, her eyes narrowed to slits. A tail encircled my mother and I, another seeming to waver both to and from Don. She turned at my voice, her expression outright changing. Anger to amusement, her tail snaking back.

"Time? Is this what you call this?" She said, waving a hand at the field. Dragging a finger across a piece of metal she minutely changed its path, somewhat further away. "I suppose it is similar to the force I control, but time? No. Too mutable, too easily resisted."

I let out a long, shaky laugh. My mother lurched drunkenly beside me, glancing around, trying to take everything in, yet her gaze kept returning to Sierra, eyes asking the questions she couldn't put in words.

"Every time," I said. "Every damn time. Does doing this amuse you? Do you _like_ to jerk me around like this?"

Her expression didn't change, though she did raise a brow. "I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about."

Sighing, I took one last look around the slowly crumbling van. "Of course you don't. Of fucking course."

x-x

Interlude: Lung

I tapped my chair, folding my arms, letting my annoyance show. "Is this is an interrogation?"

The man sitting across from me shook his head as he smiled, taking a sip of his tea. "Not at all, I merely have a few questions, and I think you might have answers."

Meeting his gaze, I jerked my head at the door. Police stood in the hallway, talking calmly to each other in low, even tones.

"Oh don't mind them," he said. "They are just waiting for us to be done. If they needed something important they would have already barged in."

"They can wait someplace else."

He set his cup down. "Now this is hardly reasonable-"

Stand up, I placed my hands on the table. "You have questions, I may have your answers. Not with them around. We do this alone."

He held my gaze for, signs of age disappearing. His smile seemed almost nostalgic when he eventually stood, giving me a small nod. "I'm sure they won't mind."

Closing my eyes as he left the room, I listened, waiting. The men went away, stopping further down the hall. Their breath gave them away, though they said no words. Not a fool after all. More difficult, but workable.

I took a seat, waiting. He entered, taking his own, extending his hand across the table. "I know we have met before, but I feel reintroductions are in order. Cedric Villers, but please call me Cedric."

"Takimoto Kenta. Kenta is fine."

Cedric nodded. "A pleasure. Most people in your line of work prefer not to give their names."

I took out a phone. "I deal in a safer way."

"Bodyguard and information?" he said skeptically. "Mixing the two seems hazardous."

I nodded in consent. "I lack the secrecy of the broker, or being as unassuming as a guard. I do, however, make up for that with a network."

"A network?" he said, raising a brow.

"My customers do not target me, and I have many customers. I do not give out information of them, they do not ask for information of the others," I stated. He nodded thoughtfully, as if giving it some thought, but a spark of recognition already flashed in his eye. Had he found my allegiance, my cover, or both?

"Ah, I see why this would work in a town like Brockton," he said, nodding along without a hint of something wrong. "I take it Empire 88 makes for frequent business?"

"Yes," I said. "They do indeed."

Cedric nodded, contemplating the phone for a moment. His wrinkles began to show, but didn't detract from his focus. A strong mind for one so aged. "And what do you want for this…information?"

"Nothing," I said, spreading my hands.

"Nothing?" he asked.

"Indeed. It is in my best interests to give you this information. The more people who know of this, the easier my job."

He merely stared at me, waiting patiently. It was the gaze of a predator who had found a weakness but didn't pounce, choosing instead to let it's prey unveil it. I gripped my seat tighter but let out a sigh. "Paid for along with the guarding."

"Ah," he said, scrolling through the phone with surprising ease. "Perhaps we could come to an agreement for further dealings. I will have to verify the facts, but this appears quality information. Though we do not have coin to pay…"

I shrugged. "An exchange then. Information for information. If you lack funds, I can find those who don't."

"Nothing involving government agencies," he stipulated.

I nodded. "Agreed."

Smiling, Cedric extended his hand. "We may need you sooner than you think, the protectorate is looking for all sources concerning the death of a cape."

"I would be happy to help," I said, doing the same.

We shook.

-

"He thinks you're an information broker?" Seka asked. "How'd you manage that?"

I closed my eyes as we walked, contemplating my response. One of the newest and most intelligent additions to my forces, the most mercurial by far. Bakuda thinks herself smarter. In some ways she is. My schooling was not complete, it was not where my attention lied. She looks down on me for it, while still respecting my strength. While not questioning my authority, she challenges my decisions. In public? Once. But many in private. This needs to change.

Better for her to question herself.

"People see what they want. Some roles are expected," I said, gazing down at her as I sat in my chair.

"Ah," she said, nodding thoughtfully. "I guess that makes sense."

We paused, coming to a stop at the door. Seka just stared, lowering her head. "Of all the dumb things _…_ "

People thronged the hallway, the doors, and the rooms beside it. Most just seemed to be talking, contemplating their day. Some were injured, some stood at the window. All glanced outside, staring at the bubble of slowed time and the one who stood beside it.

Seka blinked, staring. "She _still_ hasn't moved."

Grunting in agreement, I took a quick look around, taking notice of the people, police, and outside environment.

Shaking my head, I moved to the door, tapping Seka on the shoulder as I passed. "Come."

Seka hesitated, but followed. "This better not be one of those roll things you were talking about."

"I will explain later," I said, brushing her off. A small, strained noise came from her throat, but she followed. There were many reasons not to, her complaint remained clear. She did not, however, question my decision, holding her tongue. Progress, however small. The rest will come with time.

We walked towards where Sierra stood, her tails lashing in the rain. Someone had given her an umbrella to shield herself in the drizzle. Resting on her shoulder, it protected her from the majority, though, much still came through. I lent weight to my steps, moving to her side.

"Your feet must be cold," I observed. She turned to me briefly, a light smile on her lips.

"Warmer than a winter stream, colder than a summer day," she said, her smile remaining still, though her eyes took on a downward cast. They strayed back to the bubble, she fell silent once more.

Seka shifted from foot to foot, wanting to act, but reluctant to do so. She settled on a middle ground, moving closer but not touching, more respect in that movement than she had given before. Heat rushed in my veins, and fire through my throat. I forced it down as the rain began fizzle, suppressing a growl. It wouldn't do to lose such a powerful ally, not to a petty fit of anger. I will fix this problem, given time. Sierra shifted but didn't turn, eyes remaining on the wreck.

"I met his wife earlier, she works as a nurse," she said. "I told her his involvement, my part in it too. She asked me to free him, worried and distraught. I agreed, of course, without a moment's hesitation, but by then it was too late."

Sierra raised a finger, pointing to the wreck. It made for a macabre sight. The man inside was bent like a ragdoll, his neck at an odd angle, a shard of shrapnel penetrating his head. Droplets of blood spotted the air, a trickle of it flowing down his neck, highlighted by the ever red glow of the encompassing blast.

I just shook my head. The girls did not turn away or complain, just standing together. Sierra with a look of melancholy and regret, though if surprise was there it was not evident. "You are familiar with this kind of situation?"

"Hmm?" she said, glancing at the van. "I suppose something similar."

Nodding, I thought back to our conversation earlier. Fifteen, she had said. As serious now as she had been then. But more embarrassment, less reason, contemplation. It is easy to fake loud emotions. The softer takes subtlety.

"Hey, look," Seka said, "You know this guys an imposter, right? He might look like the real deal, but that's probably why he chose the guy. He's single, by the way. Doesn't even have a wife."

"The real man's name was Donald Abrams," I said, speaking in a low, respectful rumble. "They found him dead four blocks from the site, buried beneath the neighborhood compost."

Sierra tilted her head, looking up at me. "While they are killers, while their story is false, the feelings were true. I ended it all with a last act of spite. There should have been mercy, imprisonment, not death. It would have been simple to drain his life force, taking all but the dregs."

Sighing, she turned to Seka. "Do you have the mask with you? Just for a quick trip inside."

"Yeah," she said, before waving a hand, motioning towards the hospital, "But isn't it kind of useless at this point? Plenty of people have already seen your face."

Sierra expression shifted, changing to a smirk. Fast, mercurial. Dangerous to predict. "While I have more than one face, I am partial to this one. I hear police moving in the background, cutting people off. The ones currently at the walls I already exposed myself to, running to save you, and coming out after. If we keep this small, silent, and make it obvious I don't want my identity known, most people will know to keep quiet."

"So that's why Kenta seemed so confident," Seka said, rolling her eyes while pulling out the mask. "Fucking super senses."

I chuckled.

"Your offer from before, that place to cut loose." Sierra said, turning to face me. "Is it still open?"

Smiling, I nodded. "Of course. We have much to discuss, some rooms are secure for this."

"I will be coming in my other form," she said hesitantly, donning the mask. "I need a way to feel…more human, somehow. But first…" she extended her hand.

Nodding, I took it. That familiar drain, the brief sense of being _less._ My fire rose in response, moving to fill. I wavered as she let go, moving for the bubble of time. "His wife is still around. Though she swore vengeance, seeing him like this would cause needless agony. You may wish to stand back."

I snorted as Seka stepped behind me, moving back as we went. If she were to just finish him off, we wouldn't need to this. Curious. "She lied to you, knowing her husband was attempting to kill. She does not deserve the luxury of mercy."

Sierra placed a hand on the bubble, closing her eyes. The slowed debris went faster, but not as it should. She unraveled the layers, the slow bit by bit. The charge released gradually, slowly blasting the air. Insignificant metal flew out, bouncing of my skin. Some stings but I ignored them, preserving my image. She swayed with the force of it, bending in the breeze, as the corpse settled peacefully among the debris. She turned and moved past as my blood burned with challenge.

"Mercy is a human luxury...and responsibility."


	5. Chapter 5

2.1

"What are these?" I said, jiggling the bag in my hand.

Seka rolled her eyes. "You know, chips. Casino chips? Ring a bell?"

"Yes," I said, eying her warily. "But why are you giving them to _me?_ "

"Poker."

"Poker?" I echoed, looking around the Casino. It really didn't look how I thought it would. More people, less winning, while peoples dress state ranged from casual to poor. A faintly white haze fogged the air, clogging my senses with an ever-present odor. My nose crinkled as I tried, and failed, to hold back a sneeze.

"That smoke seems to really get to you," Seka observed, eying me sideways while watching the crowd, her finger tracing small circles on the table between us.

"Yeah," I gasped, stifling another sneeze as I paused, looking around, seeing people nearby. "My nose is very sensitive."

"Yeah, I get you," she said, shifting in her seat, facing me fully. "You going to be all right?"

"I _think_ so," I said, gesturing at the casino, "I just need some time to get used to all of this."

Seka nodded, flashing a grin. "Cool beans. So as I was saying though, Poker."

"But-"

"Just think about it, We've got thirty minutes till we meet up with Kenta. We could make thousands in that time. _Thousands,_ " she said, holding up a hand, rubbing her fingers together. "All that money, and it's ours for the taking."

"I see where you get the idea that I'm good at poker," I said, looking away with a sigh. "I mean I know how to play pretty well, it's just that everyone can always tell what I'm thinking."

Seka made this strange choking noise, coming from the back of her throat.

I got up in my seat, moving over to help. "Are you okay?"

She took a quick gulp of water, coughing a bit. "Just fine. _Right._ Sure. Let's go with that. Let's say that you're an easy read _now_ , when you're acting like this. But...what if you _change_ your act?"

"I'm not comfortable with that right now," I said, setting my elbows on the table, speaking in a whisper.

Seeing that man there, the shrapnel through his head…I didn't know what to think. He'd been so many different things to me, just in the course of a few hours in a day. As Don he was a companion, then friend, then a captain. As Victor an enemy, trying to kill Seka's mother. But those were both false. He wasn't either of them really. Victor wouldn't have died like that. With Othella on sight he would have been invincible, able to withstand that blast. The real Don was dead, killed before we met. Now the fake one too, the first life I'd taken.

I killed this man through negligence, and don't even know his name.

"Look," Seka murmured, taking sips of her soda. "I get that you're feeling guilty about Don, but it's no reason to hate yourself. He's not worth that."

"How would you know?" I shot back. "It's not like we knew him."

" _He almost killed my mother."_

"But did _he_ have to die?"

"To me? That's a yes," she whispered, "But for you I don't know. It's not like you actually killed him. What the hell is so wrong?"

Looking at the table, I caught my reflection in the surface. "I swore to be a hero. To do good with my powers."

"And you did that, didn't you? Look at me! Look at mom!"

"But I didn't save him."

"Just fucking move on!"

People turned from what they were doing, taking a long look at Seka. She sat down, breathing heavily, just waving them off. "Look, what's done is done. That man is already gone. I mean sure you left him alone. Sure you could have done more. But you thought he was _invincible,_ that he'd live through the blast. That wasn't negligence, it was just a _mistake._ One anyone could have made. Look, would you have done anything different the way you are now?"

I stopped, thinking about it. "I...don't know."

At the time I thought he was Victor, a powerful skill thief made invincible by Othalla. If I removed him from the bubble I would have had to fight him with two handicaps: nearly depleted reserves, and two hostages to save. If I left him I thought he would be fine, just buffeted maybe, thrown in the wind. I _could_ have just drained him, but I'd held back. I'd been afraid I would go overboard, maybe kill him instead. Leaving him had been safe, no risk for anyone involved. Or so I thought. Now, without knowing the outcome…

"Probably not," I admitted.

"Then there you have it," Seka said, spreading her arms. Waiting. It took me a second before I got what she wanted.

"I'm _still_ not comfortable."

She leaned back in her chair, arm draped over her face. "Oh. Come. _On_."

I looked away, stifling a laugh. Or trying to anyway, I didn't quitemanage it. I think Seka caught on because she just _wouldn't stop talking._

"Think about it this way," Seka tried, changing tacks. "It's facing your fears. Getting rid of your hang-ups. I mean imagine if you were facing someone like, say, Hookwolf, and you couldn't find it in yourself to change-"

"I get it, I get it," I cut in. "You want me to play poker."

"I don't just want you to _play_ poker. I want you to _clean them out._ "

"Okay," I said, "You want me to clean them out. And you really think I can do this."

"Yep," she said, kicking back in her chair eyes sparkling with a savage grin. She really does. She thinks I can do this, and as she was said, clean them out.

Earlier today, back in the morning, there was another letter on the table. One of many, piled in a stack. Another one not opened. Just bills, dad said, Nothing to worry about. They'd get paid soon. Just a phase, it will be over soon.

He's been saying this for months. The house was the first to go. At first he did his best to fix it, but, well, the front steps been broken for a long, long time. Then it was our clothes. Then the food we ate changed.

That didn't stop him from taking two weeks off just to help me, even if I hadn't appreciated his efforts. He just kept grit his teeth and moved on, like he had been for the past three years, ever since Mom died. I guess, in a way, I've been doing the same with school. Just going through our daily routines, hoping that everything we knew would go back to normal.

It didn't, of course, there were too many issues. Dad's union went through hard times, all the work drying up. My troubles were at school, my bullies, betrayal.

This could be an opportunity, a step in the right direction. Not a cure all, not really, but the money would help. After all, it's not like i'll change for long, will I? Just for a game, some quick mid-day poker.

Taking a breath, I steadied myself, fixing my goal. "I might be willing to do this, but could we split the profits? I'm not doing so well financially..."

"Split?" she said, slapping your leg. "You're funny. It's all yours if you want it."

"What?" I said, staring.

"Well, except the base I'll give you," she amended, spreading her arms. "Do I _look_ like I'm starved for cash?"

"No," I admitted. "But that doesn't mean that-"

"It's off Casino credit anyways," she said, rolling her eyes. "One of my job's perks."

 _Beat_

"Oh," I said remembering just who owns this place, just how he is known…and just who Seka works for. "I see. Then wouldn't cleaning this out be detrimental to your job?"

"Nah," she said, shrugging. "I'm fine with the owner, but the guy who runs this place is a real piece of work, always giving me issues. I'm not in this for the money, I'm in this for _payback._ "

I hefted the sack, testing it's weight. "How much is in here? In dollar value I mean."

"Bout a thousand," she said, shrugging.

I almost dropped it.

"Right," I said, taking a steadying breath. "Right. Well here I go."

No going back now. But first, how to do this?

Putting my hand under the table, just in case someone ws looking, I tried summoning, while not actually manifesting, my glowing ball of essence. It worked. I would have smiled, but I didn't have the heart for it, staring where it should be in apprehension as I sucked in a breath. First I reached in my backpack, picking out what I needed. I slipped it between my fingers, closing my eyes. Then, focusing on my ball, I took all my feelings, my emotions, my _me,_ and shoved it all in.

Opening my eyes, I stretched out my neck. Well. Certainly not as dramatic as I had expected. I smiled at Seka, who smiled hopefully back."So. Poker night?"

Night in the middle of day. But who am I to judge? I rose from the table, nodding, smoothing out mom and dad's photo, crumpled lightly in my hands.

"Of course, Seka. Poker night indeed."

x-x

2.2

 _"_ _Hey dad."_

 _"_ _Mmm? O hey Taylor," Dad said, poring over his papers, muttering under his breath. He'd been doing this for days now, and I was getting kind of curious. He only looked like that when he was really, really angry, and never over letters._

 _"_ _What's got you so down?"_

 _"_ _Nothing, nothing," he said, leaning back in the couch. I joined him up there, and he rustled my hair. "Well, nothing you need to worry about till your older."_

 _I scooted away, protecting my hair. He's_ still _treats me like I'm only kid. "But why can't I know now?"_

 _"_ _Oh, go ahead and tell her Danny," Mom said, leaning out of the kitchen. She wagged her cookbook at him, raising her brow. "She's all grown up now, not just daddy's little girl. Tell him Taylor."_

 _I nodded, blowing my hair from my eyes. "Yeah! I'm twelve now! Not eleven anymore!"_

 _He took off his glasses, quirking his lips. "Sorry kiddo, It's only been five days, I sometimes forget. I suppose one year is older, isn't it? I owe you this."_

 _"_ _It's certainly better than glaring at paper all day when you should be getting ready for a meeting. Maybe talking to someone will help you take your mind off things," mom said, moving back to the kitchen. I wrinkled my nose a bit t the smell. Meatloaf again?_

 _"_ _Well if you want to know, you'd better come here," Dad said, patting the couch beside him._

 _"_ _You're not going to mess up my hair, are you?" I asked, warily eying his hand._

 _He chuckled, waving a paper at me. "I won't, I promise. I just need to show you something."_

 _Scooting over, I took the paper from his hands. Two sides with numbers, a zigzag slanting down._

 _"_ _It's a graph," I said, eying it. "We're learning about these in class."_

 _"_ _Yes, but what's it about?"_

 _I squinted. "Union Hiring rates and years in the bay."_

 _"_ _And it's only going lower," he said, sighing._

 _"_ _But it's been happening for a long time," I said, pointing at the years on the graph. "Why are you so angry?"_

 _"_ _Oh boy," mom said, voice echoing from the kitchen. "Here we go again."_

 _Dad winced, but moved on regardless. "Because this shouldn't be happening. There's no shortage of jobs that need to be done, but nobody from the Dockworkers Association is being hired to do them. Well, no one currently in the Union."_

 _He waved one of his letters. "A good friend of mine just quit the union because he couldn't find work. Not two days later and he's on a project with worse conditions and a third of the pay. A skilled worker like him, forced to work a minimum wage job. Can you believe it? He's planning on skipping city, looking for greener pastures."_

 _"_ _So…you're angry because people are leaving?"_

 _"_ _They're being forced to leave," Dad explained. "People don't want to leave Brockton Bay, but they have to if the city abandons them. It's not their fault they can't make a living anymore. We're sabotaging ourselves by pushing all our skilled workers away. If they leave, then the buildings will suffer. If the buildings suffer, less people will want to move here. If less people want to move, then houses get abandoned, if houses get abandoned, you get this."_

 _"_ _That's a picture of us at the beach," I said, squinting._

 _"_ _Yes," Dad said, pointing at the background, "but what's this?_

 _"_ _The bad part of town. No one goes there."_

 _"_ _Exactly," he said, "and it's just been spreading. The docks will end up looking like this if everyone leaves and nothing else changes. Turning this around would be easy. Just one important person, one big project. That's why I'm always talking about the ferry. It's the perfect project! ThBrockton bay used to have a giant tourist base, and the ferry was right in the center of it. So on top of all the jobs it would make there would be people coming, bringing in revenue for the express chance to see it! There's also…"_

 _Mom stuck her head through the door, looked at me, and rolled her eyes. We shared a smile before she went back to cooking. Dad's ferry rant is a pretty common occurrence, we heard it at least once a week. I treated it like history class. Smile, nod, and let my mind wander, until he moved on to whatever subject he'd gone off of. Dad could be such a dork sometimes._

 _"…_ _But the problem is, no one seems to be willing to back such a project," he continued. "It doesn't even have to be the ferry; it could be anything large scale involving the union. Bring money to the docks, and the docks give back. No one seems to see that! Still, I'm not giving up. Now that I'm the Union Representative, I'll make that my goal. I'll find that one person, I'll make that one pitch. Taylor, when you people ask you where you grew up, you'll hold your head high in pride. Brockton Bay will be a city everyone will remember."_

Of course, that hadn't happened, but it resembled my current situation. Dad went to meetings he didn't expect to go well all the time. This, I suppose, was something similar.

"This hardly seems fair," I said, walking besides the stout figure of one Mr. Jackson, the casino's current owner. Seka seemed to hate the man.

The sharp dressed Korean businessman didn't spare me a glance, navigating the darkened halls with ease. " _Cheating_ isn't fair."

"She didn't cheat," Seka said, shouldering her purse while rolling her eyes.

"Twenty thousand dollars worth of chips in the span of," he said, pausing to check his watch, "thirty minutes without cheating? I think not."

"Thirty minutes?" Seka gasped. "What an outrage! What a scandal! This _totally_ proves that she cheated at poker!"

"It's enough to validate an investigation," He said, curling his lip in distaste before glancing at me sideways. "You should stop associating with a known troublemaker like Seka. You are in enough trouble as it is."

"Seka? Trouble?" I said with amusement, "I never would have guessed."

She snorted, and he clenched his teeth, gesturing behind us for his guards to catch up. While most guards were picked for their intimidation factor, these two seemed picked for their competance. Not the tallest people I'd ever seen, but their muscles were corded, and they looked like they had some experience in a fight. If I closed my eyes and covered my ears they might even have a chance of landing a hit. Though tempting as it was to lead them on a merry chase, it would hardly help my cause, not when Mr. Jackson currently held the strings to my purse, metaphorically speaking.

My chips clicked as he walked, an ever present reminder of just what was at stake. Twenty thousand dollars. Still, I wasn't that worried. I doubt Seka would have looked so carefree if we were in any serious trouble.

The man walked to a door, pulling out a large ring of keys, jingling freely as he unlocked the door. We followed, sitting down in the first seats available, a plain, if comfortable, low seated variety. He took the one behind the desk, high backed and elegant, inlaid with the scrolling carvings of golden dragons. His guards positioned themselves to block off the door, silent as a grave and about twice as foreboding.

Crossing my legs, I leaned forward, resting my chin in the palm of one hand. "This seems rather final for any sort of investigation."

"Just to make sure you don't abscond with the chips."

I smiled, tilting my head to the right. "Don't you trust me?"

"Quite frankly? _No,"_ he said, rubbing his eyes. "Your attitude is blatant and state of dress is appalling. You don't even act as a proper woman should."

"Proper woman," I drawled, amused, but I let the others drop. My clothes were torn in some places, ripped in others, and a hoodie and sweats is hardly what you would expect from someone at a high stakes poker game. While my 'attitude' was debatable, it certainly wasn't normal for this situation. Two lone women surrounded by powerful men. They probably thought to cow me, not amuse me. Sadly, this fails. I could beat them with a thought. But proper woman? "Just what would you define as proper?"

Seka leaned back, nearly tipping her chair. "He means an old school housewife, straight from the sixties."

"No, I do not, but there is a resemblance," he said, fussing with a pen, setting it neatly on the desk. He leaned forwards, clasping his hands before his face. "All things in order. Everything neatly in their place."

Seka shifted her feet, hitting the legs of the table. The pen shifted, barely moving, but Jackson frowned nonetheless. He frowned, hands twitching, before he fixed it again. There was the shifting of feet, the creak of the door. I smiled in recognition, hearing a chuckles deep rumble. Jackson's straightened, bowing his head in apology. "I'm sorry," a pause," sir, I thought your meeting was later. If you'll let me deal with this troublemaker first, I won't be but a second."

I found it interesting how Jackston gestured at me, ignoring Seka entirely, but filed that fact away for later. A comment would interrupt this, ruin their little play. Part actor, part audience, I sat to the side, the facilitating role, letting the drama unfold.

"Tell me her crime if you wish this to hurry."

"But sir…" Jackson said, gaze flicking to me.

Kenta moved to the side, resting his back on the dark wooden wall. "This does not matter. Speak."

Jackson's eyes widened, but he bowed all the same. "Cheating at poker, sir. That is her crime."

"Your evidence?" Kenta asked. "And what was the game?"

"The game was poker," he responded. "Twenty thousand in thirty."

"That is not grounds for cheating."

"But for suspicion, that is. She was not in her place," Jackson said with conviction, conciliatory yet strong. A politicians tone, as my dad loved to say. Forever backpedaling, but never agreeing.

He resembled a mongoose with his very young threatened, trying to hold off a wolf with his words. Brave and praiseworthy if his cause wasn't twisted. Sadly, it was, so the image twofold. A knight wielding folly to twist a dragon from its hoard.

It didn't make sense, seeing his devotion to order. A devotion, a madness, or perhaps something older.

The room filled with a chuckle, deep, low, with a rumble. A few steps from Kenta, his hand on my shoulder. "You remember our meeting, when I spoke of my guest."

Jackson stopped, nodding slowly as I took a new light. "Then…"

"Yes," Kenta said. "This could be her place."

He nodded, getting up from his seat, bowing to Kenta before exiting the room, to the snickering of Seka. Kenta waved the guards out, taking the vacated seat behind the wood desk. Jackson, in all his fine clothes, had looked equal in ways to that high-backed carved chair. It was dwarfed without effort by Kenta's large back, despite his worn looking fleece and raggedy jeans. His stance was quite casual, indolent in his seat. Arms relaxed on the desk, yet no slouch in his posture. Part practice, part nature, if I took my own guess. He passed me my bag, which I accepted with grace.

"Subtle," I said after the door closed behind us. "But I'm not about to join your gang."

"Never my goal. I am not a subtle man."

"This could be your place," I echoed, "What exactly did you mean?"

"This, right here, as we sit in this room," he said. Indicating me and Seka with a wave of his hand. "You sit among us but apart, free to do as you please."

"Allies, you mean," I said with a shake of my head. "I'm afraid I can't do that. While I like you both well enough, I'm not about to work with a villain."

"Yo," Seka said crossly, "What do you think-"

I looked at her smiling, and she cut herself off.

Now came the annoying part of being in this form. People seemed to spend half their time wary of me, the other half frightened. As interesting as some of their reactions were, I could never figure out the _why_ of it. With Seka this was particularly jarring. She went from being an opinionated chatterbox to a partial mute. It's like I _scared_ the personality out of her, even when I did my best to seem approachable and inviting. Which, by the way, seems to work with most people. With her? Not so much.

"Seka," I said, letting my annoyance show, "I told you before, you don't have to treat me any differently when I'm like this. Go on, please, do you think I will snap at you?"

She looked at me, chewing a nail, eyes cast in shadow, a darker blue than normal, contrasting nicely with her flamboyant choice of clothes, all whites, reds, blacks, and large logos. Uncrossing her legs, she looked at me seriously for a moment before blowing out a breath. "Uh, yeah. Well, where was I….fuck it. You know I'm a villain right?"

I raised a brow. "Of course, but helping you save your mother is something _completely_ different than what Lung is proposing."

"Actually, that is exactly what I would propose," Lung said, arm fisting to his right. "A common goal, a common enemy. You have seen the lengths they have gone to take out Naoko. They still not back down from failure, vengeance will only fan their war efforts. My people will strike E88 before they strike down Naoko. You do not have to work with us, that is a given. But we can provide you with plans, information and rumors."

"If that was all, there would be no need for all of this," I said, indicating his office with a lazy wave of my hand. I leaned forwards, my right hand on his desk, barely touching his. "Tell me, what do _you_ stand to gain?"

Lung didn't retract his hand, but didn't move it either, holding my gaze. "I war with the Empire, this is no secret. It is a war, however, that I cannot win."

"Go on," I prompted, looking at Seka from the corner of my eye. She wasn't surprised.

"They know they cannot fight me," he continued. "Instead, they attack my territory."

"The docks," I said, thinking back to his radio conversations.

He nodded. "Indeed. They attack the buildings, and displace many people. They hit my warehouses, bleed my businesses dry."

"You can't do the same to them?" I asked, raising a brow.

"Empire 88 is based downtown, an important place to powerful people. There would be a response from the greater Protectorate. No one important cares for the docks," he said with a shrug. "The more powerful I become, the more destructive I become, and my men cannot fight without me. I have two capes, they have many."

"I see. An ally indeed. Without legitimate grounds to fight the empire, you wish to help those that do, such as the police and I."

"Well," I amended, indicating Seka, "you _do_ have legitimate grounds, but revealing so wouldn't help, now would it?"

"It would not," Lung affirmed.

I cast a thoughtful look around the room. "As interesting as this is, I know there is more. You are strong, Lung, and revel in that fact. Success is your norm, breaking even is a _weakness_. What changed? How much did you lose?"

"Buildings, suppliers, storage," he said, not missing a beat, obviously expecting this line of questioning. "They damaged my business fronts, requiring workers, cutting into my manpower. When my men build, I lose presence in the city. The presence I lose, Empire 88 will gain. I am a criminal, yes, not a very good man. But I live on the docks, I need them to flourish. Nazis only wish to see the docks burn."

Nodding, I conceded his point. While the docks hadn't flourished in his time here, they hadn't deteriorated either. Well, no more than usual. Still, that wasn't what caught my attention. "Why would your repairs take manpower? What about the dockworkers association?"

"The Dockworkers association," Lung asked, snorting. "They are too expensive, demanding too much money for too little work. Why hire union when I find others cheaper?"

 _Beat_

"I…may have a proposal," I said. "A compromise, if you will."

Lung nodded. "Go on."

"I see no reason to work with you. Not long term, and not now. Your information is good, but the Police will have better. If matters continue as they have for the past few years then I see no reason to help. However," I said, leaning I close. I moved my hand onto his, bringing it up. Our elbows remained on the desk, hands clasped in the air. "I can promise you this. If you hire the Dockworkers, make a concentrated effort to clean up the docks, I will work with you. I will _personally_ dismantle Empire 88. Man by man, brick by brick."

x-x

2.3

Blue, green, and white warred within the ball in my hands. Well, war wouldn't be the right term, it would be better to say they flowed. I tossed it idly, watching it catch in the light.

Strange how something so small could hold all that I associate 'me' with. An odd thought considering the brain does something similar, but there nonetheless.

Letting go, I watched it for a moment, bobbing gently in the air. Placing my hand on the orb, I closed my eyes and pulled. It shrunk down, shrinking till it was barely more than a bauble. It didn't take long for that to fade either.

Seka rose from her seat and shouldered her purse, jerking her head at the door. "We going?"

"Yeah," I said, nodding, taking a moment to look at Lung's vacated seat. 'I'll think about it,' he said, which made a lot of sense. This decision wouldn't only affect him, so he has a lot of people to consult, but he'd shook my hand as he left, a strong, deliberate gesture. He would agree.

"Great, you got a ton of chips to cash," she said, grinning. "Oh yeah, I just want you know this. You probably didn't see it what with how Kenta stole the stage. The look on Jackson's face? Fucking _priceless._ "

-

"Twenty thousand dollars," I breathed. "I mean, I kind of expected this, but actually seeing it…"

Seka rolled her eyes, pulling me through the door. "Yeah, yeah, I get it already. You've been repeating this the whole way out. Speaking of that, you know all those people back there? _They could hear you_."

"I guess," I said, looking up at the sky. Steel grey clouds rolled across the horizon, not a hint of sun in sight. "You wouldn't happen to know the time, would you?

"Yeah, half past five," she said, shrugging. "Why?"

 _Shit._ I stopped, gulped, and turned to Seka."Okay. If that's the case, this is very important. Seka, can you keep a secret?"

Looking at me from the corner of her eye, blinked, and shrugged, her expression guarded. "Sure?"

Stopping, I grabbed her hand, pulling her from the open street, closer to the wall.

"Even from Lung?" I asked, moving closer, speaking in a whisper.

Seka broke my grasp, backing into the wall, hands raised. "Yes! Damn! Whatever you say! Holy shit, what do you even want from me?"

-

"I don't believe this," Seka said, jerking the wheel of her car as we turned the corner. "Seriously, what the hell?"

Gritting my teeth, I hung on to the dashboard. "I know this is surprising, but could you please just _slow down?_ "

"Yeah, sorry, just…wow," she said, reaching the stoplight, hitting the brakes. She turned to face me, a hand on the wheel, the other on her seat. "We're going to meet your dad. _Your dad._ "

"You seem more surprised by him _existing_ than my transformation," I pointed out. I don't know exactly what I'd been expecting. Surprise, revulsion, or anger maybe. Some sign of betrayal, or resentment. She'd just sighed in relief and said, 'That's it?'

But as soon as my dad got mentioned…I sighed. "You know, you don't have to meet him if you don't want to. I mean he's nothing to be afraid of, but I can tell you're nervous about this."

"It's not _him_ I'm freaking out over, it's…" Seka sighed, shaking her head. "Okay, so something's been bugging me for a while now, and this might explain it. Don't you have your ball when your transformed?"

I blinked. "Of course I do."

"Well then," she said, turning back to the road, "Can you show me it?"

I rolled my eyes. "That's silly. Humans can't summon orbs of essence. It's dematerialized."

"Of course not," she muttered. "Well there goes that theory."

"What theory?"

"Nothing," she bit out, muttering inaudibly under her breath.

Shrugging, I turned to the mirror, hand resting on the window. The chill was nice, it helped keep me focused. Going from a perfectly healthy body to a currently recovering one just made me more aware of everything wrong with me right now, but the aches and pains meant that I was _me,_ in both body and mind. My brown eyes stared back, brown curly hair, nearly black. Limbs thin, not supple, my mouth just a touch too wide. This used to bother me, but after today, I couldn't bring myself to care.

"We're here," Seka said, her door creaking with the force she opened it. She stood there for a second, sighed, and then got out. I followed, leaning down to touch the grass.

"I'll go in first," I said. "And remember to call me-"

"Yeah, yeah, your name is Taylor Herbert."

"Hebert," I corrected. "And my dad's name is Danny."

"I got it, I got it," she said, waving irrelevantly.

I nodded, and we moved to the door. I was a little worried about dad's reaction to Seka, she could be really abrasive sometimes, but he probably dealt with worse on the docks, so that wouldn't be a problem. I didn't expect him to love her, but not hate her either. We reached the steps, and her foot hit the second. The wood creaked and bent but didn't break, and she was off it soon enough. She eyed the steps, then eyed the roof. "You know, I didn't believe you about the whole money situation earlier, but..."

I stared at her, and she trailed off. "Right. Got it. I'll shut up about that. By the by, how are you going to explain away the twenty k sitting in your bag?"

"I uh…haven't got that far yet, "I said sheepishly, rubbing the back of my head. "I was more worried about coming home late from school."

Seka nodded thoughtfully. "Pretty sure I can cover you on both parts."

"Okay," I said, deciding to trust her. She probably knew what she was doing better than I did, what with Naoko not knowing she's a cape and all. That just left covering for her faux passes, which was doable. "Let's do this then."

My knuckles rapped on the door, the sound, while not loud, was different enough to notice. A door opened, footsteps hitting the stars. Dad opened the door, face drawn, shoulders stopped. His hair was in disarray, growing bald spot all the more evident. Lean, lanky, and tall, he resembled a scarecrow standing like that. His back straightened when he saw us, gaze turning to me, eyes gaining new light. Well, before his brows furrowed, a thundercloud rolling beneath the surface. There would be words later, but not now, not while we had company. "Taylor."

"Hey dad," I said, trying to smile. Half a failure, half a success. More a twitch of the lips than anything else.

"And who's this?" he asked, gaze shifting to Seka.

I winced, half tempted to close my eyes to wait out the inevitable fireworks. They both had some pretty bad tempers, and dad was _not_ in a good mood. Instead I shied away as much as I could, trying to avoid their eyes. Seka reacted much as I expected. She stepped up to him, getting in closer, a hand quickly rising, her other in her purse…

"Mr. Hebert, it is a pleasure to finally meet you," she said, smiling, _genuinely_ smiling _,_ back straight, hands clasped before her, Boston accent barely noticeable. She extended her hand. My dad took it, the storm disappearing, face smoothing as his gaze turned appraising. "If you're anything like your daughter, I'm sure we'll get along famously. My name is Seka Nakane."

"Pleased to meet you Ms. Nakane," dad said, shaking her hand, falling back on his habits. He stood in the door for a moment, looking from one to the other. "If you don't mind me asking, what are you doing here, and how does it involve my daughter?"

"It's a bit of a tale," she said with a small smile, inclining her head, "and your stairs are, well…"

Dad blinked. "Ah, yes, sorry about that. I forgot my manners. Feel free to come in, if you'll just give me a second..."

Waving his hand, he walked inside, reaching down to pick some papers off the floor. He centered a vase, moving on to the couch. I heard some pots clash, the blinds being drawn. Seka turned, politely averting her gaze.

This is just weird. Scratch that, this is downright _uncanny._ I'd thought at worst a fight, at best a standoff. Not _this_. I glared at Seka, hissing under my breath. "Okay. Where did _that_ come from?"

Seka's eyes shifted, brow raising, smile showing more teeth.

"What, didn't think I could pull off a high class act? _Please,_ " she scoffed. "I went to _Cornell."_

 _-_

"Taylor helped your mother? Good to hear," dad said, laying a hand on my shoulder. "But there's no reason to reward us like this. Eighteen thousand…"

I winced, and he eased up the pressure on my shoulder till I didn't feel his weight, but I still felt his warmth. It felt unfamiliar, but nice. We sat on the couch, little apart from each other, facing Seka across the table. She hung her oversized purse on the arm of chair, legs crossed, back straight, hands folded neatly on her lap. Her off shoulder punk rock shirt should have ruined the image, but it felt more like an afterthought, easily ignored in the greater picture.

Seka leaned forwards, placing a hand on the table. "I know, I know, it seems like a lot, right? Well it's really nothing. Between my mother's clinic and my own patents, we have more than enough to spare as thanks."

Dad eyed the stack of cash on the table. "Are you sure?"

"Positive," Seka said, smiling. "You'll never know just how much help Taylor has been."

I shot her a glare at that, quickly looking to dad to see if he noticed. He didn't, too busy staring at the stack, thank god. I swear Seka's smile turned into a grin for a second, but dad didn't seem to notice that either.

Dad reached out, hand stopping halfway before he grabbed, his eyes wide and staring. "Then…thank you. Thank you very much. I just really don't know what else to say."

"No big," Seka said, waving a hand. "Quid pro quo and all that."

Dad shook his head, sighing. "I know this is quibbling and all, but I just wish we might have got this sooner. Maybe then we wouldn't have had to strike that deal with Winslow."

"I'm sorry, what?" Seka asked, blinking.

"Nothing, nothing, just some issues with bullies," I said, waving my hands, trying to cut them off.

" _Bullies._ "

"Yes, that's part of the reason I'm glad she met you," dad said, smiling. "Taylor's been the target of a constant bullying campaign for over a year now, and I was worried it was cutting into her ability to make friends."

It took Seka a moment to respond, her voice a little higher than before. "Right! Well, I'm sure you don't have to worry about that anymore."

"Or the bullies," I pointed out, a little hopefully. "Some police might pay the school a visit, start cracking down on the crime, checking out my case."

"Really?" dad asked, turning to face me. Recognition crossed Seka's face as she seemed to relax, regain her lost composure. Maybe she was just worried for me?

"Well, possibly," I said, closing my eyes. Emma is his _granddaughter._ Would he really go through with this?

"Who did you talk to?"

"Chief Villers?"

"Ah," dad said, leaning back in the couch, rubbing the back of his head with a strange twist to his lips, "then believe me when I say that he'll get this done."

"You sound like you have personal experience," Seka said, eying dad appraisingly.

"Back when I was younger and dumber, yes," dad said with a lopsided grin. It softened as he turned to me, gently nudging my shoulder. "That was back when I met your mother. She got us in a lot of mischief back then, and, well…we had a few personal meetings with the Chief. He isn't a man to let something go. Or forget for that matter."

He mulled that last part over before shaking his head. Seka seemed somewhere between revelation and constipation before she schooled her expression, probably trying for that same smile from earlier, but looking more _curious_ that anything else. When she spoke she held a note of excitement. "She sounds interesting. Do you think I could meet her?"

Dad's smile dropped, and I looked away.

" _Shit,"_ Seka said. "Look, I'm sorry, I didn't know."

"Its fine," dad said, attempting to smile. "It's been years now, we've had time to get over it."

"Yeah, but the way I went and just…shit. Just…sorry," she said, moving to stand.

"It's _fine,_ " dad said, waving her down brows furrowed, before he wiped his hand across his face, sighing. "I mean it. Please, sit."

Seka sat, arms splaying over the chair, head lolling backwards. Dad's lips quirked as he took her in. "So was that Boston I heard earlier?"

"Yep," she said, pulling an arm over her eyes. " _Fuck_ I feel like an ass now."

"Still less of one than you sounded earlier," dad said, leaning back into the couch, a small smile playing across his lips. "I hear too many people talk like that at work."

"Yeah?" she said, pulling her head up, eyebrow raised. "What do you do?"

"Oh, I'm the Dockworkers Union representative," he said, fixing his shirt. "Polite and stuck up is all I get."

Seka's head dropped. "Right, I think I'm done with all the whammies for now. I got to peace out anyways, check on my mom."

"I'll see you out," I said, rising from my seat. She got up, grabbed her purse, and made a beeline for the door. I followed, almost running to catch up. Dad watched us go, crinkles forming in the corners of his eyes.

My shoes getting soaked was annoying, but you get that when you walk through grass, around here, especially when it just rained. Doubly so because it looked like I hadn't had to do it, Seka stood still, waiting for me by the car.

"Yo," Seka said as we got closer, nodding. "When's the chief coming to clean house?"

"You mean to Winslow?" I asked, tilting my head.

"Yeah."

"I don't know," I said, squinting, trying to remember. "I mean it's not like he told me or anything, he just seemed firm."

"Right, right," Seka said, tapping her phone. She pocketed it, crossing her arms. "And now we wait."

"For what?" I asked, curious.

Her phone buzzed, and she took it out. "Mom to respond."

Eying it, she started grinning. "Right, so looks like you'll be seeing me around tomorrow. "

I blinked. "What? Why?"

"Chief has an off day, he hasn't got anything planned. Well," she amended, "Nothing involving mom anyways. After a gang war, things are usually pretty quiet around here. People licking their wounds, counting their earnings or losses. Biding their time. The Police probably aren't expecting any trouble, and Villers is pretty good for a Govie. This'll be his chance, and he's gonna take it. Any move he's making happens _tomorrow._ "

"And after seeing all the shit you pulled today, and learning everything I just learned?" I'm not missing this," she said, grinning as she got into her copper red car. "Not for anything. Not when I'm about to see _genius_ in the making. Catch you round."

She hit the gas, pulling out, breaking off into traffic. I just stared for a moment before I shuddered, shook myself off, and headed back inside. My dad was standing in the doorway, watching her go. "That's a good friend you made there."

"You heard what she said?"

He shook his head. "No. But I saw her wait. And whatever it is you really helped with, I just want you to know I'm proud of you kiddo."

I looked at him, feigning ignorance. "What are you talking about?"

He motioned me inside, raising a brow. "I'm not about to believe someone just gave us eighteen thousand dollars for 'emotional support'. I won't pry about it though, it's your secret."

"Thanks," I sighed, slumping against the door.

"But I'm glad you picked such a good person as your friend," he said, ruffling my hair. "I'm sure she'll be a great influence on you."


	6. Chapter 6

Ay, not to proud of most of this, but I feel like it ended up pretty good

3.1

My backpack slipped over my shoulder, settling it's weight on my back. "Dad! I'm heading out!"

"See you later kiddo!" he called, wrestling with his tie.

I closed the door and hopped down the steps, stopping to rub a sore spot on my legs. It's not like they got worse overnight. If anything, they seemed better. However, after being in a body that felt and responded _perfectly_ for most of yesterday the pains felt like strangers rather than constant companions. I had to get used to them all over again, something I wasn't looking forward to. This would probably happen every time I transform. Great.

Still, the walk to school wasn't that unpleasant. A few more aches, a few more pains, but everyone left me alone it gave me time to think. I hadn't had enough time to do that in the past two days. With how fast everything happened I hadn't had time to really comprehend, just _do._ That bugged me. It really did.

My reactions had been off, clunky, not thought out. There were so many different ways I could have handled situations. Better decisions, clearer communication. I just didn't have the time to think with my attention being pulled ten different ways at any one time. The only time that I seemed to be removed enough to take everything in had been in my _other_ form, and, well…

I suppose that is me. My meeting with Lung had showed me that, hadn't it? Same goals, similar values, but the way I thought was just so _different_ that it barely counted. Part of being some kind of super trump, apparently, comes with a personality change.

I couldn't really classify my powers in any one area. Blaster, mover, thinker, changer…Trump classifies me the best. So many uses, and I feel like I'd barely scratched the surface. While I hadn't really had time to experiment, per say, my other form always seemed to use something new instinctively. Well, that would make sense form what I heard on the boards. Everyone understood their powers on a basic level, if not most of the uses. The uses came to trumps, I guess, over time. Like Eidolon?

No, no. Comparing myself to the world's strongest hero is a little much. Well, strongest besides Scion, but everyone knows that. While the similarities are there, like with how I find new powers on the fly, they are nowhere near as versatile or powerful as his are. Unlike his bag of tricks, mine are a finite resource. That's what I feel at least. A broad area, yes, but with limits.

Testing. That's what I need to do. Find a use for all the various aspects of my power. I applied essence to Seka and Naoko to get them out of that time bubble. Could I apply it to others differently? Maybe transform them, like I had myself.

I might be a healer. I might _actually_ be a healer.

I'll have to test this, of course. See if it even works. But if it does, this could be _huge._ Healers are the rarest of Parahumans, and we definitely need more. Every life counts in a fight against the Endbringers. Far too many capes have died fighting those monstrosities, if I could even save _one_ this could be worth it.

Still, that's getting ahead of myself. Better to focus on my immediate situation. What will I do about my deal with Lung? _Why_ did I make that deal with Lung? I'd been so sure at the time that I could back up my end of the bargain, but taking down Empire 88 by myself is thinking a little too big. Then again, Lung seemed perfectly happy to help, and willing to clean up the docks to have mine. If he does, it's a win despite any danger to myself. If he doesn't, that just means I don't have to help him, and focus more on protecting Naoko from danger.

Then there's the PRT, and all the issues that comes with it. I should have signed up with them earlier, gotten my cape name certified. Since I hadn't, I might end up being called by whatever name the public came up with. Hopefully Foxfire would be the most apparent, I really liked that name. Maybe because it was the first cape name someone had given me, but still. Hopefully they would see my hostage rescue on the docks for what it was, not think I'm some new ABB cape. That mask probably hadn't helped.

I hefted my bag, feeling it's bulge in my pouch. My new, poor looking, but incredibly high quality locked bag. This had to be my favorite gift from Seka, easily. She'd included a lot of _way_ too skimpy clothes for my other form. Tank tops, sheer shirts, shorts that seemed more like underwear than anything else…But this would be useful, maybe even stop the trio from getting into my stuff.

Ugh. The trio. I'd almost forgot about them. Dealing with them seemed scarier than fighting _Hookwolf_ of all people.

I stopped, squinting through the morning light. The school stood like some giant monolith to unfairness and social injustice against the backdrop of the morning sun, concrete and brick with pillars of stone. A banner stood out, white against grey with big, bold letters. Welcome to Winslow, Heart of the Bay.

I shook my head, walking inside. Somehow Lung's Casino, a literal criminals den, had seemed less corrupt than Winslow.

-

I walked through the hall, heading straight my homeroom. My bag, as it was, weighed heavily on my shoulders, but better than the alternative of using my locker. A girl snickered as I passed on my way through the halls, breaking into whispers with her small group of friends.

I looked turned my head as they left in an attempt to ignore it. The rumors were normal; I _had_ run out of class. And while skipping was common, this was more visible. The rumor mill would be filled to the brim for a while. 'Did she do something wrong?' 'Why'd she run from a cop?' The only real constant was that someone, somehow, would think I was pregnant.

"Taylor," someone said, and I looked to my left. Red hair, blue eyes; it was Emma all right. "So you really came back. Grandpa didn't manage to lock you away?"

"He wasn't after me in the first place," I said, brushing past. I heard footsteps behind me, sped of my steps.

" _Really_. It didn't look that way to me," she said, moving up to keep pace. "Then why were you running?"

 _To get away from you?_

I _already_ wanted to leave, and I hadn't even reached my first class.

I just kept on moving, staying silent, ignoring her.

Emma glanced at me sidelong, with a small, secret grin.

I sped up my steps, moving even faster, my bag's constant pounding burning pain through my back. I stopped, shoulders slumping, and moved to the corner.

"Sophia," I said, panting for breath.

"Hebert," she responded, leaning into my space. I moved away as she closed, backing into the wall. "Was that backbone I heard?"

I didn't dare to respond, not when she was like this. There was sweat on her skin, she ran the way here, and she's _always_ more aggressive when her bloods running hot. This isn't looking good. How am I supposed to get out?

Looking to the side I eyed my homeroom door, hoping Ms. Knott had come early. The door swung open, but it was Madison instead, joining Emma and Sophia and closing their circle. My hand flashed out, ready to manifest my ball, and then remembered I _couldn't_ and it curled in a fist. Sophia eyed me at that, jerking at me with her thumb. "What's gotten into Hebert? It's like she's looking for a fight."

"No," I said. "I'm really not."

Emma chose to ignore me, speaking over my head. "Well, what if she is? Would you be willing to give her one?"

"Yeah," Sophia said, shoving my shoulder into the wall. "I don't see why not."

They were _bolder_ today, using more than just words. They should have been quiet after the locker. They were quiet all yesterday! Something changed in my absence, or when I was at school-

Wait. Don't tell me.

"You guys really believe it," I said, my panic fading away. "You all really think that Villers came here for _me._ "

Emma arched her eyebrows, smiling sweetly, and gave me a pat on the shoulder. The one _not_ being crushed in Sophia's grip. "Well, from what Gramps told me on the phone, he came here to investigate _something_."

"Funny how that works," Sophia said, pushing me back into the wall. "An Asian businesswoman get's kidnapped on the day that you're missing. Next day the Police chief comes calling, and you actually _run?_ I mean, I know you're white trash, but I never did take you for a Nazi, Hebert."

 _Beat_

"So you think," I said slowly, "that _I_ pulled that off _._ "

"Nah, you're not smart enough," said Madison offhand. "I mean just look at your grades! Maybe you were involved, but only as an accomplice."

I shifted my shoulder, trying to reach a spot of comfort, but Sophia's grip just grew tighter, and Emma's hand bore down harder. "If I _was_ somehow involved, then why am I here? Villers would have me arrested and kicked out of town."

"Deniability," Sophia said. "A tangential involvement. Maybe you said the right words, had her lured to the spot, at just the right place, and just the right time."

"I'm sorry Taylor," Emma said, looking on with mock horror, "but I can't be your friend. Not with an accomplice to _murder._ "

"No one died," I retorted.

Emma grinned viciously. "So you _admit_ you're involved."

I paused, breathing , and stopped just _reacting,_ smoothing my face. "No. I won't do this. I was in _no_ way involved. Can we skip this whole session and just move on to class?"

Sophia just grabbed me, dragging me from the wall. I kicked at her feet, knowing this would get worse. She shifted, and shoved me, pushing me down the hall. "Maybe you're not a Nazi, but there's _something_ you did. Cleans don't run from cops likes that, and you did something for backbone.

"So fess up," Sophia said, "You kill someone lately?"

I flinched.

"Holy shit," Emma whispered. "Just no fucking _way._ "

"I didn't," I said, my voice sounding feeble to _me._

Madison backed away, her face slowly paling, but Sophia just smiled, gripping tighter, hand fisting at her side.

"Well what do you know. You're a criminal, Taylor. So who was it," she pressed. "One of the minders, one of her guards?"

"I didn't-!"

"There it is then. You've got some real brass balls," she said, sounding nearly impressed. "Well whatever, we're done here. This makes everything _easy._ " Sophia reared back her fist, preparing to strike. I closed my eyes tightly, not holding my breath.

"Just do it," I said, awaiting her fist. And waiting. And waiting.

 _Badump. Badump._

" _Yo._ "

x-x

3.2

Seka stood in the hallway with one hand on her hip, swinging her purse in a loose, lazy arc. She ignored Emma and Madison, favoring me with an arch of her brow. I rubbed my shoulder where Sophia had gripped, grateful Seka had shown up like she'd mentioned yesterday. I took a step to the right but Emma's leg blocked it, moving backwards to close the trio's tight circle. No luck there I guess.

Sophia turned to face Seka, jerking her head back at me. "Move along. We're just dealing with a Nazi."

"A _Nazi,_ " Seka drawled, tilting her head. "You know, I just don't see it. You sure you got the right person?"  
Emma smiled, apparently over her shock.

"I know right? You wouldn't expect it of Taylor. But hey, remember when someone was kidnapped on the news? That one Asian lady who owns the clinic on the docks? What's her name, Nakane or something... Well, get this; we think Taylor's be behind it."

"This is Hebert we're talking about, remember? She won't be behind this," Sophia said, giving Seka a once over. "I haven't seen you around here. You a senior or what?"

"Something like that," Seka said, waffling a hand up and down as she casually stepped closer, reaching a hand out towards Emma who took a quick step away.

Emma's smile was shaky, slowly backing away, while Madison had freaked as soon as Seka moved closer, backing up to the wall. Sophia was the only one who really kept her cool, still blocking me off from any avenue of escape, but even she had her tells, her arms we tensed and there was a knot in her shoulders. The whole trio looked spooked now, but couldn't seem to see _why._

The signs were obvious to me, but then I've spent time around Seka. Her walk was _too_ casual, her smile held too much teeth, and her steps to move closer had been a little too fluid. There was _danger_ in her motions hidden just under the surface, the same that Sophia had sometimes, now that I thought about it. I wasn't scared because this was directed at _them_ , but I was still curious. She was drawing this out. That wasn't really like her; she just goes for the throat. What didn't I know?

 _Just what is she planning?_

"Still, seems a little harsh," Seka said. "Doing all this because you think she _might_ be involved? Looks more like a straight beat down than anything else."

"It's not just a _might,_ " Emma said, stepping forwards. "She was actually involved, my grandpa all but confirmed."

"Yeah?"Seka asked. "So why the hell should _that_ matter?"

"His names Cedric Villers, the current Chief of Police" Emma said, with a quick, firm nod.

Seka's lips twitched upwards, lopsided on her left, and she met my gaze briefly, eyes flicking to her right. I couldn't see anything, it still gave me clue. The hall to her right led straight to the entrance, and with all the commotion I doubt we'd hear anything.

"But he didn't confirm it?" Seka asked, pressing forwards. Emma nodded.

"He may as well have. Just wait for a second, think of the victim. That Nakane woman would be _pleased_ we were acting so quickly." Seka grinned, moving closer, stepping into her space.

"Yeah? Well want to know what I think?"

"Sure," Emma said, as Sophia loomed over Seka. "Go on. _Tell_ us what you think."

 _Crack_

Seka retracted her hand, the palm of it still open. "I think," she said slowly, "that you're all full of _shit_."

Emma's head twisted back, her face a mask of shock, raising a hand to gingerly prod her right cheek. Sophia tensed, Madison startled, but before anyone could react Villers stepped around the corner.

"Seka," he said as he walked from the hall. He moved past the trio, setting a hand on my shoulder. "That was not necessary."

Seka shrugged. "The bitch had it coming."

Villers just sighed.

"Oh yeah," Seka said, taking Emma by the hand. "The name's Seka Nakane. The pleasure is _mine_."

Emma turned to Villers, hand still touching her cheek.

"Grandpa, what are you doing? Didn't you hear what she said?"

"Yes," he said, leaning down to look her in the eye, "but I heard what you said as well. I'm disappointed in you, Emma, I thought better of you."

"But Taylor's a criminal!"

"No, she is not."

"Then why did you need my help? Why'd you ask me to investigate?"

Villers' spine straightened, and he stood up, tall, his hand weighing on my shoulder with comforting warmth.

"While I was here to investigate and enlisted your help, I wasn't looking for a villain, but a witness, a _hero_ instead."

"No," Emma said, eyes flicking to me. "Taylor? You can't mean that. She's too much of a wuss." Seka studied her nails, leaning back to the wall.

"Y'know, without her, my mom would be _dead._ "

Villers raised his eyebrow at that, watching me and Seka with interest. I gave him a nod, and he inclined his head, and that was just that. Emma and Madison's expressions were variations of gobsmacked, while Sophia, on the other hand, almost seemed _worried,_ but it was subdued, kept under control.

"So," she said, casually. "How much did you hear?"

"Well, I arrived a bit after Seka, but I think I heard enough," he replied, eye the trio. "You three are coming with me to meet with Ms. Blackwell."Emma's eyes shifted, and she pointed to Seka.

"What about _her?_ You _saw_ what she did, isn't she coming too?" Seka leaned forwards, amused, swinging her purse.

"I'm twenty, kid _,_ and graduated high school at _fifteen._ You'd be _lucky_ to graduate by the time you're my age."

"Seka. That's quite enough for now."

"Sure thing Chief," she deferred, heading back towards the door. She paused, grabbed my hand, and dragged me out of his grasp. "So I'll just be taking Taylor, we have plans for today."

I blinked.

"Plans?" he asked archly. "Doesn't Taylor have school?"

" _Plans_ ," she stressed. "Very big plans. The type that can't wait, if you know what I mean."

Villars frowned, and then hesitated, studying me with care.

"Are you sure this can't wait? She seems in dire need of a rest."

I just nodded, somewhat dazedly, a buzz riding through my body _._ My hands couldn't stop shaking and I was feeling lightheaded. I didn't get _exactly_ what happened, but everything worked out okay, and whatever Seka was after, it sure seemed important. Her hand squeezed mine repeatedly in an ever changing pattern. I couldn't really decipher it, but it felt like Morse code.

"I'm certain," I said, and Villers slowly nodded.

"If that's the case you can leave, I will make the excuses." He turned to the trio, a scowl crossing his features. "But as for you three, well…"

Their voices seemed to drop as we exited the doors, and Seka turned, smile wide, eyes sky blue in the sun. Her foot tapped the sidewalk, and her head swayed to the side.

"So," she asked lightly, "Was I part of the plan?"

Well, I thought she'd be coming later today, but…"Yeah?"

"Bitchin," she said, "that execution was _genius._ The timing, the people…anyway, let's hurry, and you should get yourself changed. We wouldn't want poor Mr. Calvert to get his knickers in a twist."

x-x

3.3

"That _bastard,_ " Seka seethed, slamming her palm on the counter. "Calvert asks us to hurry, then says to wait another _hour?_ He's just wasting our time. We could have our meeting now, easy. Hell, we could even have two!"

"Mmm," I said, sipping on my soda, studying the menu that laid out before me. All liver and tofu. Bleh, so annoying. I mean I wouldn't have minded if it fit the whole theme, but that seemed to be _foxes,_ which got a kick out of Seka.

Her whining, though, was getting kind of annoying. _She_ was the one who had set this all up. I was just dragged along for the ride.

Though her idea _did_ have some merit. I mean an actual identity for my other, for _this,_ form? That could be invaluable when dealing with officials. A _little_ bit illegal, but not enough to matter. I mean, protecting capes' identities was in the _rules,_ wasn't it?

"So," Seka said, leaning over to check out my menu. "You, ah, going to get anything?"

"Eventually," I said, absently chewing at a nail. I didn't _get_ anywhere, it seemed nearly invincible, but the habit was there, and I didn't try breaking it. "It's just so hard to _choose._ "

"Take your time," Seka said, going back to her food, eyes straying my way every once in a while. Fried tofu for her, and it _did_ look tasty, but I was craving some meat, and with liver right there…

"I think I've decided," I said, looking down at the menu.

"Go on," she said, a little _too_ intently, but I decided to ignore it, filing it away. Seka and weirdness aren't really strangers.

"Excuse me ma'am," I said, waving for the cook. "I'll have the-"

"Kitsune."

I turned around, looking down from my stool. A girl, maybe four, seemed to address me.

"Excuse me?" I asked, just to make sure. "Were you talking to me?" She nodded, eyes wet, her little pigtails bobbing. I heard a thump to my right, but Seka's a big girl, she'd be okay.

"Yes, Kitsune. Can you help get my ball? It's stuck in a bubble, and I can't get it out…"

"Mara! Get back here! Stop bothering the lady," a ruffled man said, scooping up his small daughter. His eyes fixed cutely on the still-squirming girl as he babbled out apologies for imaginary slights. "I'm sorry, she's just four, you know how it is-" He stopped, cheeks paling, as his eyes reached my face.

"Can I help you? And what's with Kitsune?" I asked, eyes straying to the girl, still trying to escape from her dad's arms. I was worried for the man, he wasn't looking so good, but his daughter was just so adorable that I couldn't look away.

"Ah, no ma'am, I'm sorry, it's really nothing important, and that's just what they're calling you, well, those of us that were there-"

"There?" I asked, touching a hand to my chin. "You mean at the hospital? You know who I am?"

"Yes," he admitted, daughter still in his arms, silently pouting and avoiding his gaze. "We were stuck by the window when Hookwolf attacked."

"And what's with Kitsune?"

"That's what everyone called you."

"We saw _everything,"_ his daughter piped in. "Even the bubble! Uhm… Miss Kitsune, can you help get my ball?"

"Wait," I said, my hand raising, mulling everything over. "Just give me a second, I have a few questions. So your ball's stuck in a bubble, like the one at the lot?"

"Yes!" she said, nodding, hair tufts flopping like ears.

I looked back towards the cook, who was staring wide-eyed. I was outed, of course, and before a day had even passed. But I couldn't blame the little girl; my heart just wasn't in it. Well, if it didn't spread too far, it wouldn't really matter, right? I mean people already saw me, so…

"Can you keep a secret?" I begged, hands clasped to my chest. The woman behind the counter nodded furiously, hair flying all over.

"Of course!" she exclaimed. "I won't tell a soul."

Well, she seemed earnest enough, so I decided to believe her. I turned to the girl, hopping off my seat, scrunching down just a bit so our eyes could be level. This wasn't exactly necessary, and had its own risks, but using my powers for something as frivolous as this…it _appealed_ to me somehow, in a way fighting didn't. A way to help people without harming them as well. Besides, this form was already outed, if only a little. If no one else sees… well, where's the harm?

"So where's your ball now?" I asked, and she pointed left.

"It's that way!" I nodded.

"Were there people nearby?"

"Nope! All clear!"

"Well, just try to keep this secret," I said, smoothing a lock of her hair. "As long as you promise not to call me Kitsune." Her nose scrunched up cutely.

"But that's what you _are!_ "

"What people called you, she means," her father cut in. He shifted her to one arm, the other wiping his brow. "Honey, you still have to stop. She doesn't want people to know."

"Oh, you don't?" she asked, her face to his chest, eyes peeking through a small veil of hair.

"Nope! Not at all."

"Oops!" she said, lowering her voice to a whisper, looking around. "I won't. I promise _."_

"You don't have to do this," her father said. "It's just a ball anyway, not that big of a deal…"

"I would be going there anyways," I said, smiling, eying Seka. "Someone was _messy_ , so I need to clean up." She scoffed, rolled her eyes, then got up from her seat, making me smile. In Seka speak that was like begging for forgiveness.

She makes it hard to remember that she's really a villain.

"Yeah sure, let's go. We've got an hour to spare."

She stood up, slapped down cash, and joined me next to the man, and he led us at a walk, arms rising and falling in small, bobbing motions.

Seka walked behind us, grumbling under her breath, casting one last forlorn glancee at the little food booth.

-

"Yo Sierra," Seka said, eying the bubble of artificially slowed time. I recognized the alley, we'd fought Cricket near here. "You hear someone nearby?" I cocked my head, listening, shaking my head with a frown.

"Not really? But it's too hard to tell. Your-" I looked to the right, at the child and her parent "- thing that you bought makes a lot of white noise."

"It's a privacy device. What the hell did you expect?" My ears twitched on my head, one tail swishing behind me.

"Something less noisy, but I'll just go ahead." I removed my ears and my tail, surrounding my whole arm in essence, and nabbed the little girl's ball.

"So we went through all this effort to keep it safe for what, this?" Seka deadpanned, staring at my hand. "That took two seconds. _Two fu-_ "

" _Language!"_

"- _dging seconds!"_

I shook my head, handing the ball to the girl. She looked up at me brightly, bobbing her head. She ran back to her dad who then walked her away.

"Thank you Kitsune!"

"It's Sierra!" I called shaking my head. "I really shouldn't have bothered. I mean Kitsune? What-"

"Yo," Seka said, hand slapping my side. "We got company."

Shorts, dreadlocks, and dark chocolate skin disappeared into the alley off to the side, only to be gently pushed back, revealing a girl. She looked everything that I _wasn't,_ not in my normal form at least _._ Slender and curved with a sure, athletic bent, ruined by hair dye and ratty torn jeans.

I had nothing to be jealous of, not now at least, but this isn't really _me,_ and well…Oh my god her _brother._

You could tell they were related, there's no mistaking those genes. What she was for girls, he was for _men._ Tall and well-muscled in a toned, developed way, his sleek, plainer clothes only helped show them off, looking _way_ too slick for this side of the docks. He pushed her along with a small twitch of his lips.

"Whatever Aisha did, I apologize in advance."

I probably should have responded, but my face froze in neutral, and nothing came out of my mouth. I think Seka noticed, because she got this devilish grin.

"Brian," Aisha said, eyes darting between us." Now's _really_ not the time."

"Better now than later," he said, eyes roaming the alley. "We can't find your phone by running in the opposite direction."

"You know what? That's fine," Aisha side. "I've decided to swear off phones. Horrible things corrupting the youth nowadays, I'm better off without it. So..." She turned, trying to run through the alley, but he caught her by the arm.

"Aisha," he said, "we're not leaving without it."

"Oh come on!" she said. "Can't you just buy me another? You've got more than enough money. Think of it like a get out of Christmas free card, via casa Aisha." Seka snorted, moving forwards, circling the duo.

"Who's afraid of the big bad wolf, the big bad wolf, the big bad wolf…" Aisha's eyes widened, and she seemed to shrink into Brian, who had a raised eyebrow, but otherwise didn't seem fazed. I was kind of glad she did, it spurred me to action, but seeing the results, I mostly felt _worried._

 _"_ _Seka._ That's enough _._ You're scaring her," I said.

 _And you might scare him away!_

"Yeah, fine, got it," she said, waving casually and moving back to my side. Aisha watched her go warily, while Brian just snorted. I ran a hand through my hair, trying to think of a way to avert this disaster.

"Sorry about that," I said, attempting a large smile, settling for a twitch of my lips. "Seka can be so _immature_ at times."

"Oh don't worry about it," he said with large, boyish, _breathtaking_ smile, "I know exactly how it is." Aisha, at his side, shot him a glare.

Seka sniggered.

"Yes," I said, doing my best to ignore them. "Immature, noisy, and _extremely_ irresponsible." I shot a quick glare at the floating time bubble.

Seka, for her part, broke into chuckles.

"Ah," he said, nodding, "So she lost something in there as well? I just noticed Aisha's cellphone; it's there at the top." He pointed, frowning, and I followed his gaze, a one of the newer models out in bright bubblegum pink.

"Well," I said, over Seka's small fits of laughter, "I don't know about that, but I'm sure she just lost _something._ "

Like what's left of her mind.

"Yeah," he said, shrugging, "Aisha gets like that sometimes. Little sisters can be so much trouble, you know?"

Sisters?

Seka broke into laughter."Yeah, thanks a lot _sis._ "

Brian shook his head, slowly moving closer.

"You know," he said, pausing, "you have some beautiful eyes. Just thought i'd let you know that."

 _Badump._

My mind went blank, smile frozen on my face. I tried to think in words, but all that came out was 'bwuh'

 _Badump. Badump._

"Hey, Brian - back up! You should give her some space."

Brian paused. "What for?"

 _Aisha? I love you._

"First of all, _eww_. Second? _She's a cape."_

 _Aisha? Go to hell._

 _x-x_

3.4

The alley was still, save for the drip-drop of liquid, leaking slowly from a kicked over can. I shifted my feet away from the spill, straightening my stance, taking a breath to regain my composure. Brian hadn't moved back and his stance hadn't change, but his muscles were tense, and his eyes were shadowed. I heard Seka shift.

 _Click_

"No."

"But-"

"No. Seka, these people are _not_ to be harmed."

"That girl is a loudmouth. A security leak. We don't take her now, who knows what would happen?"

I shifted my gaze, meeting Seka's eyes. "You didn't do this earlier."

"That girl was only four. No one _cares_ what they say."

 _"_ _Seka,_ " I said, nerves fraying," that's _enough."_

Seka clicked her tongue, removing her hand from her purse with a shrug. "Whatever. But this will bite you in the ass."

I turned back to Brian, shaking my head. "I'm-"

"She apologizes," he said, putting a hand on Aisha's shoulder. Her feet moved out of sync before she caught his stride, head dipping for a second as he pushed her forwards. "Aisha, go on."

" _Apologize?"_

"Yes," he said, pressing down with his hand. "Capes identities are important. Apologize. Now."

She shot him a look. "Like _that_ will make it all better."

"It's a start," he said, "and will show that you mean it when you say that you will _never_ tell anyone again." He looked up, holding my gaze. He was serious. He actually thought I would _hurt_ her.

"Look," I said, raising my hand, "There's no reason for all of this. I'm not mad, just disappointed is all."

"Not to look a gift horse in the mouth, but you're a little too blasé about this," Brian said. Not relaxing, I noted. "This is important."

"We'll, this isn't really new," I said, shrugging. "I've already been outed, what, twice by now? Not counting you guys. Sorry about Seka, she just overeacted."

Seka shifted, rolling her eyes. "I thought you wanted this kept _secret._ "

"I _do,_ " I said, "but not at the expense of… _that_." Brian tensed at my emphasis, but then he slouched a bit more, not looming as much. Finally relaxing.

"Well, just so you can make sure, she really _is_ sorry…" He eased up his grip, tapping Aisha on the shoulder. She walked forwards, one step. I smiled, trying not to look threatening. She took another, then another, gaining her confidence.

"Sorry," she mumbled, turned away, and then did a double take. "So hey, you were already outed, right?"

"Yeah?" I asked, watching her swiftly turn around.

"…Mind telling me who you are?"

Now _I_ felt like rolling my eyes, but couldn't see the harm of it at this point.

"You promise to keep this a secret?"

"Yep!" she said, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

"Well," I said, brushing back some stray hair, "I'm not too sure myself. I mean yesterday I would have had a name, but after the incident at the clinic…"

"Suns and crosses?" Aisha piped in.

"Yeah," I said, blinking. She'd heard about it?

"Oh. My. God. You're Kitsune!" she exclaimed, turning to Brian. "She's the one I was telling you about this morning!"

"The one who fought Hookwolf?" he asked, eying me appraisingly. Aisha bounced.

"Yeah! She even fits the description! There are a few vids of her up, though no one managed to catch her face…sick mask by the way, you rock the femme fatale look."

I scratched my head, and Seka puffed up beside me. "Thanks?"

"Yeah well anyways, I know why you're here," Aisha said, grinning, pointing at the bubble. "To take down that thing, right?"

Well, just to grab a ball, but now that I thought about it…"Yeah."

"You can do that?" Brian questioned, eying the bubble.

"Sierra's got some _major_ mojo. Time's just one of em," ," Seka said, before turning to Aisha. "But anyways, you mentioned something about the mask."

"The masks design was amazing," Aisha said with a grin. Seka moved closer, their expressions now mirrored.

"I know, right?" Seka said. "A stroke of pure genius!"

"It made your sister seem _edgy,_ and hard to recognize too! I mean her bod was the same, but…"

Brian met my gaze, and we moved off to the side, watching Aisha get excited and fueling Seka's ego. I could get why he thought I was older I guess, she's smaller, hard to place, and was acting so _childish._ I _could_ tell him otherwise, but it was our only connection. If I _do_ tell him the truth, he might decide to run, and I didn't want to leave him with a negative impression.

"Well, at least they get along," I murmured under my breath. Brian shook his head in agreement, watching them chatter.

"Yeah. That's surprising, considering your sisters reaction."

"Well, Aisha's stroking her ego, so now they're all good."

"Your sister created that mask?"

"Designed it," I corrected. Which was actually true, to the best of my knowledge. I doubt Seka would want him to know that she made it. "There are actually videos?"

"Yeah, just clips of it though." He reached into his pocket, taking out a phone. He did _something_ to the screen, and then played a small clip. It felt weird to see myself running from Hookwolf, but at least my back was turned so no one caught my face. Brian exited, and scrolled, showing me another. Me with my back turned, _again,_ tails swishing behind me, receiving an umbrella from Chief Cedric Villers.

"The only other clip shows you walking indoors," he said, pocketing the phone, "but you get the gist of it, all mysterious and brief. The media is having a field day over you."

I groaned. With my limited disguise and everyday clothes, this wasn't helping me keep this identity secret, not that I was doing that good of a job myself.

"Relax," Brian said with a large, boyish smile. "Their attention will fade once something new comes along."

"Well, I can hope," I said, leaning back to the wall with a deep, breaching sigh. "I've had enough craziness for now without the media on my tail."

"I know that feeling," he said, and we fell silent for a bit. While watching the other two squabble over something, I checked my watch. Twenty minutes left until our meeting with Calvert.

"Hey Brian."

"Yeah?"

"Mind watching the alley for a second?" I asked, tilting my head to the bubble.

"Can do," he said, moving towards the entrance, giving me a thumbs up when he got there. I nodded, moving to the bubble, preparing to disrupt…and couldn't.

Huh. That's…disappointing.

"Yo, something the matter?" Seka asked.

"Nothing," I said, erasing my frown, glancing at Seka from the corner of my eye. "Something I expected, but was hoping I was wrong."

Seka nodded her understanding, eying the bubble, before turning back to Aisha. "So...where were we?"

"I think it was that one game. You know, crazy people, annoying robots, lots of explosions…"

"Right! Anyways, it sounds like they had some pretty good ideas for their explosives, but what they had in variety they lost in originality, but this gave me some ideas…"

Leaving them to their mystifying debate, I surrounded my hand in essence, placing a hand on the bubble. I shed a bit of my veil, trying at one. Nope. Two? Nada. Three? Negatory. Four, five, six, seven, eight…

I paused, reticent, if not _as_ reticent. I still felt like this was betraying myself, cheating in a way, but not enough to stop me.

My bag slipped off my shoulder, and I dug near the bottom, feeling around the edges for the secret compartment. Seka seemed to _love_ the things, commissioning my bag with no less than ten, which I kind of maybe had a hard time telling them apart. I pulled out my mask, frowned, before pulling it on, securing the latches and releasing the rest of my veil.

Placing my hand on the bubble of false time, I took a moment to admire all the items inside, floating slowly, barely imperceptibly, to the ground. An interesting sight, on you didn't see every day, I made a mental to note to ask Seka about using them sometime to create a slow-art display. A new brand, perhaps, breaking away from the mold?

Well, no matter. There's business to conclude.

I released all the layers, isolating them with my essence, creating a small spill of objects that pattered down to the ground, anything from balls to bullets, which I let escape into the walls, catching Aisha's cellphone while a knife passed my face. Defusing this one was _dull_ compared to the other. Less color. Less danger. Less sheer sense of _power._ But this was for the best, mustn't hope for more conflict.

"Excuse me," I said, my voice annoyingly distorted by the changer of the mask. Perhaps Seka could remove the synthesizer? An idle question for an idler time.

"I apologize," I said, inclining my head in Brians direction, "but I'm afraid we have to go, we have prior commitments." I tossed Aisha's phone which he caught without complaint, in an easy, smooth motion I couldn't help but admire. Mmm. I walked past in a loose, slow circle, drawing a path of blue fire through the air with my hand.

"We'll have to do this again sometime," I said with a nod. He nodded back without flinching, seeming more curious than anything. Progress!

"So, where you guys going?" Aisha asked with a frown. I smiled in response, though she couldn't see it.

"Just a simple appointment. I believe I'm expected."

x-x

3.5 Seka Nakane

I couldn't tell if the guy in front of us had a boner or was pissing his pants. With how close Sierra was to him, it could have been either, heck, even both. Her hand was on the door and her face beneath his, their chests almost touching as she intruded his space with a curious blend of danger and allure. Half was the mask, badass as it was, a beautiful study of sharp, fierce edges and delicate curves. Genius. Yep. No doubt about it.

The other half, _maybe_ more, that was all just Sierra _._ A sleek, deadly package, smooth curves and crème skin with the undulation of muscles just beneath the surface. Her movement looked _sick,_ but insanely hard to pull off. I managed to copy _some_ , but not to the same effect.

Subtle in a way that's hard to see, she's graceful as a willow and strung like a bow. I mean you give her a once over, you think she's just got it. You look once again, and think you actually _might_ place it. But keep looking for all you want, you're not going to find it. It's not really there, all in the back of your head where there's this little, prehistoric beast just screaming to _run._

The man managed well, I'll give him that much, didn't give her an inch but his game was still up. Bug eyed and tight lipped with a small hint of panic, he tried to tell her off anyways by running his mouth.

"Ma'am," the guard said, gulping, his eyes straying down her tank. He shook that off quickly, riveting on her mask. The danger was to him as a sailor to his ship, and he straightened his posture, gently pushing her back.

"Ma'am," he said, with a firm, even tone. "Thomas Calvert's not ready. You'll just have to wait."

"I'm not here for Calvert," she said, with a saunter and step. He shifted, pulling back, trying to regain in his bubble.

"Ma'am," he said, stopping, raising a cautionary hand, "I'm on the job, and I'm _married._ "

"And that matters, how?" she said with a smile in her voice, hair tickling her arms as she traced a finger along the lines of his gun. "Let loose. Indulge me. Let's have some _real_ fun."

 _Whew._

The guy opened his mouth, thought the better of it, and decided to cut his losses, retreating inside, making a beeline for the office.

 _"_ Well," I said, moving closer, as she leaned against the wall, "that's _one_ way to cut through red tape."

"That…didn't go as I planned," she said, sighing. I raised an eyebrow.

"Oh yeah? Dancing to tango?"

"Not particularly," she said, bringing a finger to her chin. "He just seemed so _experienced._ I was hoping for a fight."

"What."

"Yes," she said, tails lashing behind her. "He was a dangerous man, I could tell by his movements. Smooth, trained, always searching for threats…a rare trait nowadays, even in soldiers. He _lives_ for conflict. You could trace them in his scars."

"So when you said 'fun'…"

"It's what he enjoys."

Yeah, it's official. Ki- Gu- Fox spirits are crazy.

"You sure he wasn't enjoying something else?" I prodded.

"Positive," she replied. "Would you care for a bet?"

Yeah, no.

"You know what? Maybe later," I said, jerking my head to the door. The gun monkey waved us in with nary a care, a different one this time. Thank holy Scion, the golden idiot in the sky.

The walls were as boring as any other office, cut from the same cloth with cookie cutting accuracy. Smooth, off white, and easy to ignore, no art, no life, all a piece of the machine. You'd think people with money would buy something _better._

Their quality, though, was _incredibly_ good. You'd think the guy was kind of paranoid with how bullet proof the things were. If I were to place it, I'd say some titanium alloy. Tinker made, by the looks of it, good workmanship, decent materials.

I tapped on a window, listening as we passed. Bulletproof. I'd swear by it. Every single one.

What's that Sierra said earlier? About that man being dangerous? This seems more like a _fortress_ than any office I've seen. And I wouldn't have noticed.

Damn. This guy's good.

"Yo Calvert! Sweet digs!" I called, waving my hand as we entered the room. I was greeted by silence. Three seconds of it. He adjusted his suit and stacked some papers.

"Miss Nakane. Good to see you again. And-" he paused. "You must be Sierra. I expected you in plainclothes."

"Hmm? Well, something came up," she said, reaching of his desk to pluck the book from the top. Her tails settled behind her, slowly waving on the floor.

"I see," he said, after another small pause, providing a pen and pushing his stack. "Well then, let's just get down to business. I'll fetch the rest of your papers while you fill out these forms."

Calvert left the room with a nod, his anorexic b-ball player frame barely clearing the door. Leaning over the desk, I checked what Sierra was signing. Looked like basic PRT fare, sign your name here and check this box there. The only important bits were 'Independent hero' and codename…

Kitsune.

"That's a nice name," I said, studying my nails, trying not to look over.

"I suppose," she said, finishing the name with a loose, elegant scrawl.

"Good signature too," I observed.

"Mmm," she said, pen dancing across the paper.

 _Scritch. Scritch. Scritch. Scritch._

Yeah, she's not giving me anything to work with.

"So," I said, kicking back in my seat," what's taking him so long?"

"Any number of things," she said, flipping the stack over, tracing the lines with an elongated nail. "I heard paper shifting, water flowing, and several phone calls. He was never answered, though he attempted to speak twice."

"Sounds like a jilted girlfriend," I said, leaning to the side, studying the room. A desk, some chairs, a bookshelf, and a few PRT recruitment posters. Standard fare besides the giant honking mirror taking up a wall. Sierra pushed her paperwork over to Calvert's side of the desk, looking my way with a shake of her head.

"Unlikely. He sounded serious, a little frazzled."

"You know this doesn't prove me wrong, right?"

She shrugged, flipping her hair and crossed her legs, folding her hands on her knee.

"Call it a feeling."

"Whatever," I said, and we settled down in silence. The clock ticked by and boots beat in the halls. I reached for my phone while Sierra plucked a book from Calverts desk. Her ears twitched atop her head, moving towards the mirror, but other than that nothing much happened. I never did like waiting, but didn't mean I couldn't do it. I like to think I made an art of it. So when the door finally opened, I responded with grace. I raised my hand to my forehead to give him my best, the sum of my respect, the grand standing one-fingered salute.

"Nice to see I'm appreciated," said the man entering the room. "Never thought to see manners on an American woman."

"Yeah?" I said, showing my teeth. "Well glad you appreciate it, I gave it my all. When you see Calvert, make sure to do him the same. The man _deserves_ everything you can give him."

He chuckled, sitting down, looking completely out of place with his red dyed hair and cut-off vest, showing off a plethora dusky brown skin. He made the office seem _too_ neat, where with Calvert it just fit, leaning an arm on the on the desk as he took the man's seat. "Calvert is busy, but I'll pass it on, yes? But come, let's move on, this is not what we're here for."

He adjusted his earpiece, taking a look at the stack. "Well, these seem to be in order. Let's move on to the meat. So you don't have an identity."

"Well, not yet." Sierra laid down her book, taking a pen from the desk. She wedged it in the pages with a deft motion, depositing the bundle to the side of her hand. "But that's what you're here for, if my guess is correct."

"Calvert hires many men," he said, shrugging his vest. "We have many different backgrounds, but I'm one of the best. Come, let's walk, we have much to discuss."

He opened his hand, standing up from the desk, camera swinging on his belt as he motioned us up, flicking a hand to my head as he passed. I kicked out as his ankles, but he dodged with a smile, a single step moving faster, and he made it seem _easy._ Damn, this guy was good.

"So the best," Sierra stated, letting the word hang in the air.

"I'm the best at many things."

"What's your expertise here?"

He moved to the window, closing the blinds with a tug, choosing to ignore her as he motioned for the door. "When crafting an identity, there are more than just papers."

"But their fucking important," I pointed out with a glare. He waved me off, smiling lightly, moving us through the door.

"Just icing, window dressings. There is oh so much more. Come, let's get moving. We have much to discuss."

"Well I suppose I can't decline," Sierra said with a twist, leaping up with grace, landing next to the man.

"Okay, I'll bite too," I said, making my way over.

"Ah, I never got your names," the man said with as he turned, one finger in the air and his left eyebrow raised.

"Sierra."

"The Names Seka."

"You can call me Rasheed." He moved, Sierra followed, and I kept step with a frown.

-

Taylor

Rasheed wasn't expected, but I wasn't about to complain. Fine, Arabic features on a tall, dynamic package. He brought some life to the meeting I'd felt lacking before, though while Seka appeared more excited, she didn't like him as well, and it amused me quite a bit.

"So you decide to walk in and tell _us_ what to do?"

"I'm an expert," he said, grinning, flashing pearly white teeth. "When I speak, you should listen, I do this for a living."

"Spouting bullshit?" she asked.

"Create _identities,_ " he replied. "I take image and falsities, and forge them into _truth._ That's what you're here for, yes? Then _listen,_ stop speaking."

"I'll listen when you explain," Seka said, rolling her eyes.

Rasheed turned to me instead, with a brief hand wave. "Could you please remove your mask? It would help me demonstrate. Release your tails if you could, I assume you can look human."

I did so, amused, unclasping my mask with a smile. I tightened my veil, yet kept my ball full. If my personality changed too much, I'm sure he'd be suspicious.

"Is this good?" I asked, smiling, with a brief, upright spin. He hummed in appreciation, turning around to face Seka.

"Do you see what she did? Your impression, if you please."

"Amused, playful, graceful," she said with a shrug.

"That's her image as we see it," he said, raising a hand. "First impressions always matter, but I'm betting there's _more._ "

"Trying to find all my secrets?" I asked with a lilt, tilting my head, eyes wide open, to give an impression of guilt.

"Nothing of the sort," he said, with a brief, short lived chuckle. "I merely wish to know you better to help create a great I.D."

"You don't _need_ to know her better," Seka said with a growl. "Some pictures, some papers, and _bang!_ There you go."

"Come, you know better," Rasheed said, shaking his head. "Those I.D.'s barely pass scrutiny, there's barely any background. What is there can be _wrong,_ and barely make it past screening. We're looking to make Sierra's _perfect,_ so I'll need some prior knowledge.

"So tell me of yourself when we reach our destination," he said, turning to me with a smile. "You're likes, your dislikes, your favorite color perhaps?"

"Not my background?"

"I'm not a spy, merely here to write a story."

I hmmed in amusement. This man was obvious, bright and flashy, meant to attract my attention. My impression for Calvert? _Efficient._ He had something in the works. There was something behind this flash, but I'd play along to find out. It wouldn't take too long as we were nearly at the room.

Bright lights and white drapes ran from ceiling to floor, the clothes and costumes on the walls lending a splash of bright color. A girl stood in one corner, slowly moving to greet us. She had smooth blond hair and a smattering of freckles, light dancing in her eyes and a crooked side grin. Her grin seemed to falter as she took me in, fading to a bit of confusion before turning to Seka. Then it returned, even fuller. Perhaps the word vulpine fit? She moved closer, extending a hand, which I took for a shake.

"Hi, my name's Lisa. I'll be working the lights. I'll also help you with clothes, you know, for most of the shoots."

"Yeah? What's your credentials? I don't get why you're here." Seka scowled as she looked, not taking quickly to Lisa. They were similar in some ways, and different in others. Both shorter, blue eyes, though Seka seemed a bit more exotic. They shared attitudes I suppose, and were similar enough to clash.

"I'm a contractor," Lisa responded, "With a bent more towards fashion. I pick clothes, Rasheed shoots, you know how that goes."

"You working with Calvert?" Seka asked with a frown.

"Never met the man myself, just got sent by the boss." Lisa shrugged, still grinning and Seka moved more in her face.

"You're avoiding my question," Seka accused.

"You want credentials? I have them," Lisa retorted, waving her wallet. I saw an I.D., some history, a card. Seka grunted reluctantly, and I turned to Rasheed.

"So, you had questions?" I asked with a smile. He responded with his own, checking the back of his camera.

"Lisa's really the questioner, but let's start broad with you, yes? General likes and dislikes, like I asked you in the hall."

"Well I suppose I like reading, and heroes of course. My favorites Alexandria, I've liked her since childhood. My dislikes? Well hmm… I don't like my clothes." Rasheed raised an eyebrow at this, finished checking his camera.

"They look very flattering," he said, and I turned to eye Lisa. She'd been looking from the corner of her eye, turning away when I stared.

"Seka's idea, not mine," I said with a shrug. "I rarely care about clothes, preferring hoodies and sweats."

Seka snorted, and Lisa gestured, calling me towards all the racks. "Well let's get you dressed then, we've got to make these look real."

I moved closer with a nod, walking to the plainer section. Good quality and bad, some ratty, some dirty. "You've a variety to test," I observed with a nod.

"Part of being prepared," she said, shrugging slightly. "So, how about this grey and this purple? Doing recent right now."

"That works out fine," I said, taking the piece. Plain gray for the hoodie, it looked a little old. The sweats, likewise, seemed worn, something that puzzled me greatly. These were clothes I would wear, but not like the ones I was wearing. Mine were high quality, thought the sweats were still plain. I kept my smile up, glancing over towards Rasheed, who polished his lens, quite deliberately, while he'd not done so earlier. Was he providing her with cues, showing her where I fit?

He looked up, caught my eye, and winked as he stood. "While you may like those clothes, are they too similar to your past?" I heard Lisa move behind me, though I didn't turn around.

"Not at all," I lied, "but a change of pace would be nice. These might help hide my background without the shield of money."

"Well enough," he said, standing, walking to the center of the room. "Now if you'll stand before the screen, and strike a natural pose…just pretend that you're out strolling on a nice summer day. Yes, now just turn you're head, give me a smile? There! Perfect, yes?"

He took the shot from some angles, all grins and excitement, before waving me off, and Lisa took me from there. I caught Seka's eye from where she stood, a little off to the left, gaze darting, suspicious, briefly shaking her head. She also sensed something off, of course, that seemed quite obvious. But I couldn't find much with Rasheed, much to my disappointment.

Reading people seemed _easy_ playing poker at Lung's casino, peoples tells showed as obvious and their goals even more. Every bluff, every card, everything was _predicted,_ but from him just excitement, true happiness and deception. I couldn't tell why or how I was deceived, only knowing it happened. I didn't quite like that.

I traced my finger down the clothes, moving near something frilly. "I wore this as a child, but how would this even help?"

"We have access to Tinker's," Lisa said with a shrug. "To fool the government's system we need access to better. They can take your image now, extrapolate a picture as a child, take your stances, your expressions, and make them all appear real. More photos help them, of course, which is why we come in, but they do a pretty good job if I say so myself."

All of this seemed so innocent and every word was sincere, but her grin seemed to be fading while she spent time around me. I traced a finger on some clothes, letting some essence move over. Undetectable and invisible, yet did I see a slight flinch?

Looking over my shoulder, I saw Rasheed's finger tapping, casual and easy on the side of his hips. Seka's gaze met mine, and our eyes watched his movements. He smiled at this notice, taking everything in stride.

"Well then," he said, shrugging, "You can't really pose in those, but a few of you as a teen would be good for the tinkers. Express yourself more, your more vulnerable side, more innocent, less experienced, still facing the world."

Well there was a way I could do this, but it might give away the game. It might _also_ confuse them, which might be more important. There was something going on, and it needed _disruption,_ so only one thing to do…I drained myself from the ball. It shrunk, and shrunk, till it disappeared without fanfare, and I was back to normal. Well, except for the body.

I really hoped this wouldn't hurt me, though I think knew what I'd been doing. Throw them off a bit more? I could do that I guess.

I clasped my arms behind my back, trying to strike a good pose. It came out awkward, _of course,_ but Rasheed seemed to love it. Lisa looked gobsmacked, but we paid her no mind, while Seka rolled her eyes without seeming affected.

"Is this good?" I asked, and he nodded vigorously.

"Of course! Of course! Now If you'll just hold that…"

"You'll have to pause that right now, I'm afraid this sessions over." Calvert stood in the doorway, face carefully neutral, his crisp business suit offsetting his spindly figure. He looked _way_ more intimidating now, and seemed kind of angry.

"But we're not quite done," Rasheed argued with a frown.

"You have enough for an I.D."

"Well it's not quite ideal…"

"Enough of that," Calvert said, after a quick, small pause. "I have a _very_ important guest, and he's asking for Kitsune."

I started at that, looking up with a gasp.

"For me? Who is it? And why is he here?"

"It's Assault," he said, sighing. "He doesn't like the word 'no.'"

x-x

3.6

"But don't you need more information?" I asked, looking at them sideways, "I mean like birth place, location, I haven't given you a last name…"

"Don't worry about that," Calvert said with a wave. "Those were provided by Seka before this all started. What matters now is Assault, he's very insistent. Rasheed, you come too."

Rasheed tilted his head. He packed up his camera, letting it hang at his belt, before moving to join him right outside the door. He turned, looking back, giving me a quick nod. "Well morning flower? Won't you come along?"

I could feel a blush growing from base of my neck, but I ignored and nodded. "Sure. I'll meet him."

"With your mask on of course," Calvert said with a nod. "Assaults visit isn't planned for, he's not privy to your face."

One of the towns acknowledged heroes, less privy than a criminal. I felt my smile twisting but I did as he asked, reaching down towards the seat where I'd placed the fierce thing. It _still_ gave me some chills whenever I saw it, but it might help me deal with these people better if they couldn't see my reactions. I'd handled matters so easily with my feelings in the ball, but Lisa and Rasheed were intimidating with them out. They had this easy, sure confidence that made me feel out of place. Even Seka had that, though hers was closer to arrogance.

I donned the mask, clasps locking, and nodded to Calvert. "So why does Assault want to see me?"

"He wouldn't say." Calvert kept himself controlled, but his shoulders tightened slightly. Maybe a sign of aggression? He didn't seem to like surprises. When I'd walked into his office earlier, I could tell he was a bit off. I think that's why he excused himself, sending Rasheed in his place. A bit flashy, attention grabbing, and if my guess was correct, he was also a spy. When I'd had my ball filled, I'd noticed things. He just constantly _moved._ Like almost everyone in this building, like he was always prepared. Eyes searching the room, ears kept wide open, this happened in his quieter moments when he wasn't speaking or acting.

I wish I could notice things like that all the time, but I just wasn't the same. Social cues? Body language? I never could read them. Why my other form was so _good_ was some kind of mystery.

"So, are we going?" I asked, picking up my backpack. Calvert nodded, before pausing, and turning to Seka.

"Rasheed can only come because he's known to Assault. He's a very sharp man, so he might sense something off, or wonder why you're involved. If you could just stay back here, I'm sure Lisa could help you."

"Yeah? Not interested, I got better stuff to do." She put an arm around me as she passed, with a quick, small bump. "See you after this, yeah? Let's meet at Kenta's place. He's got some things he wants to show us, it'll be 'fun.'"

Kenta's place? The casino. Fun was poker night. Discussing dockworker's terms, it must be! I nodded with a grin.

"I'll see you there then."

"Yeah, catch you later." She shot one last glare at Lisa before striding from the room. Calvert waved and I followed, following his lead through the maze.

"That mask's disconcerting," Rasheed commented as we walked. "Your words might say one thing, but your tone says another." I could get where he came from, the tone also bugged me. But that was the point, wasn't it? And besides, Seka made it. Tinkertech of this quality was really hard to come by, so I didn't see myself discarding it in favor of something else.

"I'm still going to keep it," I said with a shrug. "It's been pretty useful, saved my life once I think."

"It just fit better before," he mused, looking sideways. "Right now it seems _off._ Did something happen?"

"Nothing," I said, avoiding his gaze. He was a spy, I reminded myself. Just try to keep cool. "Why are you confused? Am I different from what you expected?"

"Both yes and no," he said with a grin. "I never expected a puddle, but you're more like a pool. You seemed so _different_ before, and just to add, vulnerable. Tell me, if I asked, would you be able to switch back?"

"Now that would be telling," I said, walking ahead. I kept pace with Calvert, dismissing the question. I didn't _want_ to switch back, feeling myself was always nice. Besides, I'm meeting a Hero! A big name at that! Maybe he's here to recruit me? I might have to decline. I'd have to join the wards, I'm fifteen after all…

But wait, that's _my_ age. Wouldn't _Sierra_ be different?

"So," I asked lightly, trying to hide some of my interest. "What's on my I.D.? So I can know what to say."

"I wouldn't advise giving out information," Calvert cautioned with a look, "but name, age, and location are there all the same. Arianna Charrisa, born in 1990. Your birthday's January seventeenth, and you grew up around Boston. Seka said she'll fill you in if you have any questions. She chose Boston because no one knows you here, saying she could fill the details."

"Well, that's good to know," I said. So she thinks I'm 21? Boston's her home city, so she could give me the details..."But why not Sierra? I grew used to that name."

"Sierra's a codename, one meant for privacy," he replied, shaking his head. "It was used by the police, it will be in their report. You are an _anonymous_ witness, Sierra being your actual name is suspicious."

"Well I guess Arianna's good…" but why'd Seka choose it? And why didn't she ask _me_? _I_ would be using it. Calvert nodded, checked his watch, and then pushed through some doors, his fancy shoes striking with sharp kind of sound.

"The name was chosen by your backer, whoever that is. He said the meaning fits, though you may change it, of course."

I nodded, looking right, and decided against. I _would_ look it up to see what Kenta meant. While he could have chosen this as Lung, I just pictured him amused. This would be an inside joke, he really seemed to enjoy them. This really annoyed me when I dealt with Seka at first, I mean I didn't get why she was so scared, but he simply chuckled.

"We're almost there," Rasheed said, rousing from silence. He moved ahead of Calvert, and nodding for me to pass. His smile out in force, he throw open the door. "Assault! My good friend! I have brought you a guest!"

Assault raised his hand in greeting, with a quick nod to Rasheed, though I think his eyes were on me, I'm where his visor was pointed. "So you must be Kitsune."

"I am," I said, wincing, at my dual toned voice. "So is this recruitment?"

"Nah, nothing like that. I'm a fan," Assault said, closing ground with a smile, gunmetal gray streamlined armor covering his head to his toe.

"A fan? Of what?" I asked, taken back.

"A fan of your work!" he exclaimed, coming closer. His smile seemed friendly and his attitude open, but there was also something _off,_ like a hidden, sharp edge. His tone wasn't _malicious,_ but was somewhat wrong, like the cheer was a mask that hid something deeper. "Your reveals, your art, they were all such great works. Though you never named the last one, did you? It's my personal favorite."

"Which one was that?" I asked, gingerly shaking his hand. His smile showed more teeth, and his face had a shadow.

"I call it Nazi Flambé, such a beautiful piece. Irony and explosions…really, you're the best. I have other names if you're open to suggestions. Troubles in Time? Maybe Kitsune Intervention?"

My smile froze beneath my mask, and I slowly move back, working my hand from his grip as I tried not to remember. Frozen time, drops of blood, that sharp, metal shrapnel….

 _Don._ No, I need to stop this. That's not even his name.

"I didn't try to kill him."

"But you did a _fine_ job. Shame I couldn't be there in person, I would have done it myself."

Okay, something's wrong. This isn't Assault as I know him. He's always a wiseass on television, but he's never this _mean._ My enthusiasm was waning, and I just wanted to _leave._ Something must have happened to make him this way. He wanted to meet me for a reason, maybe he wanted my assistance? Still…

"Look, you're not doing well. I think so, at least. But accusing me of _murder_ isn't any way get help."

"Was I that obvious?" he mused dropping his grin. "I was hoping for _subtle,_ but with my mood…well. I didn't view that as murder, whether you did it or not. Not when he killed Battery. I prefer _execution_."

"Wait, he killed _Battery?_ "

"You mean you didn't know? It was all over the news," he said, voice mocking. "Great hero dead, caught outside in her civvies. Just an _accident,_ they're saying, but someone gave order.

"Come," he said, hand extended, "we'll talk more on patrol."

x-x

3.7

"Were you and Battery close?" I asked as we traveled. It was an awkward, crass question, but it was all I could think of. There'd been nothing but silence for most of this patrol, avoiding people when he could, keeping mainly to the roofs. _That_ part was easy, completely natural in this form, the smooth movement of muscles propelling me up towards my goals. Assault snorted, not pausing as we moved towards the downtown.

"Going straight for the liver?" he asked, making a move to get closer.

"Just didn't know what to say," I said, shrugging, feeling like I'd messed up. I reached out for a scaffold, grabbing the rail as I leapt, pulling myself up and over, twisting midair in a roll. Blood rushed through my veins, and my nerves felt on fire, cooled by spring air as we raced through the city. He lit up on a roof, and I followed, we stopped at the top. Kneeling down by a gargoyle, he traced a hand on its teeth.

"We used to always sit here when we went on patrol. It doesn't have the best view, but it served as a reminder." He raised his right hand, arm extended to the west, and I followed his finger. Two skinheads stood in view, in the alley by a bar. One of the nicer ones in town, it's door pure mahogany, with small, tasteful tables and well-dressed patrons. We got a few looks, most tossed especially to me, a thug fingered a knife, a lady's nose rose to air.

"Welcome to club Nazi."

"That's not its name," I pointed out.

"It's what it is," he replied, "What do you see in the alley?"

"Skinheads," I observed, "but this is downtown. They're in _every_ alley."

"But none privately owned." He shrugged, moving closer. "Hey Kit."

"It's Kitsune," I corrected, frowning a bit. I'd lost a name _twice_ today, if these were official, they'd be used _right._ Even if I didn't know what mine meant. I mean Kitsune, what are those?

"Well," he said, shrugging, rolling a coin on his knuckles, "I can't attack the alley. Have an idea why not?"

"Of course," I said, nodding. "You would require a warrant. Privately owned, like you said? Your claim would have to have backing."

"Would random screams be enough?" he asked, facing me, flipping the coin to his arm. It actually rolled _up_ , moving on its own volition. Redirection, stored energy is what his power profile said. I didn't know he could do _this._ It seemed somewhat advanced.

"I don't know," I said, staring, barely registering my answer. He flicked me the coin, and I caught it in hand. I brought it to my eye, and compared it to my mask. Not tinkertech, I think, just an ordinary dime. Same weight, same feel. It didn't look counterfeit.

"Well," he said shrugging, "that's the rub, it turns out they _aren't._ The Protectorate can't go in there, not even run investigations. Battery and I never agreed, but it's the law, what can you do? _They_ would need to start something before we could get involved." I looked over at him and his huge, grinning smile, still showing too much teeth as he stared down at the club.

"So is this why you went through all this trouble to find me? To facilitate revenge? They didn't do it you know, the man's already…" I winced.

"It wasn't any trouble at all," he said with a wave. "You walked mask on in the open, I merely followed the rumors. I was on patrol anyways, and this isn't revenge. More a preemptive strike or preventative measures. You remember what I said, about Battery's death?"

"You said there was someone behind it, but not really the rest. I can't believe it," I admitted. "I didn't think this could happen."

He fell silent at that, rubbing his ring finger, sitting back against the roof and looking up to the sky.

"Well, that makes two. Neither can I. It was all just so sudden, I remember…" He stopped. His hand went to his visor, palm flat, fingers splayed. "It's still hard to take in. It's only been a day."

I sat, somewhat awkwardly on the hard tiled roof, before moving closer, settling a hand on his back. Light, barely there, and he didn't say a word. I just let him be, alone with his thoughts. I'd been through this before back when mom had died too. It's hard to know how to react when someone dies _;_ a piece of life that goes missing. Everyone takes it differently, and while he _seemed_ almost fine, his bite was his grief twisting out in strange ways.

"They connected the killer," Assault said, speaking low. "The same one who hit Nakane. It was Victor, you know."

No, I really didn't. So Victor was Jacket, and Don after all?

"Why do you think someone's behind this?" I asked with a frown.

"Because Victor's a prick, but he never hurt her once. He used to idolize her as a kid, according to what I've found."

"He did?" I asked, shocked, "but how do you know? Why would he go Nazi? Why would all of this happen?"

"See my small finger?" he asked, raising his hand. "I poke air, and just _know_ things. It's my power you know."

"Really?" I asked hopefully.

"No," he said with a harsh, quick laugh. "You're such a kid, Kit. Nothing like your vids."I shrunk back, embarrassed, before raising my eyes.

"That was all really me. I'm just...different right now."

"Just different she says," he mocked with a bow. "Like summer to winter or a country to city. Before I thought you'd be _useful,_ but you're so out of depth. There was an autopsy. They found his identity. I figured out the rest. I have informants, I know people, some with shadier pasts."

"That doesn't sound very Heroic," I decided to point out, trying to ignore his other words. He was in grief, that was all. Other me wasn't better.

"I wasn't always a hero," Assault said, standing up. "These are contacts from before."

"As a civilian?"

He shrugged. "Sure."

There was something more going on, but I decided not to pry. I felt he wouldn't answer anyways, he seemed agitated. His body language was forward, his hands absently clenching. I looked to where he was gazing, back down at the club. We'd garnered more attention, people stopping to stare, but by and large were ignored by the dancing white Nazi's. They spoke in hushed voices, drinking wine, clinking fine china.

"So the perpetrator's in there?" I asked, looking closer. I manifested ears and a tail to get a better read.

"I'm not certain," he admitted. "But still, it's a lead. I want to surprise them, shake them up. See how they react."

He seemed to think for a moment, bringing a hand to his chin, a move reminiscent of dad when found a small issue.

"Let's make an entrance," he said, extending a hand down to me. I rose up and took it, but remained somewhat confused.

"What for?" I asked, thinking. "Wouldn't we just be denied?"

He pointed down the street, and there was a flash of a lens. A news van, I think, with reporters pulling up. They had been drawn to us stopping, and were shooting a scene. I felt a flush coming, and tried to move to his back, but he grabbed my hand, nodding, grinning down at the club.

"They won't be able to ignore us, not with their rep on the line. Heroes, denied entrance, on live television no less? Too much of a scandal. And with you, even _more._ 'White Supremacist Nazi's'. And the label would stick. Right now they can deny it, somewhat at least, but they've never garnered this attention. Let's use this, shall we?"

"Is there any other way?" I asked, shying from the cameras. He snorted.

"Of course! But we're seizing the moment. Come now Kit, try to think more Kitsune. Think aloof, be mysterious. Let's have some _fun_." His teeth flashed, canines prominent, and his gesture went wide.

That last part confused me, and I was wary of the first. "I'd rather be myself."

"That will work just as well." He hopped down from the roof, looking back up at me. I stared down, somewhat reluctantly, before leaping down as well. He took my hand as we dropped, gentler than before, making a beeline for the door. I followed, mind racing, trying to imitate how I walked. Well, not how I _myself_ walked, but when I was _other._ What had Rasheed said? Graceful and playful? I put a spring in my steps, pulling closer to Assault. He hesitated, but pulled me in gently. My heart beat a bit more as we approached the door guard.

"Now where did this come from?" he questioned under his breath.

"It's a surprise," I breathed, stomach roiling, trying to focus my goal. Seka had alluded to our deal, and a part was the empire. Assaults goal would actually help me, and we might find this 'C'. He could still be after Naoko, this was only for the best. Our eyes met midway, and I moved closer to whisper.

"I made a deal, I'll keep it. No one will stand in my way."

x-x

3.8

"Shall we?" I asked, eying the club.

"Let's," Assault responded, his steps shifting me as I leaned into his arm. I didn't know why I was doing this, it seemed pretty stupid. I mean I saw this in movies, but actually pulling it off… Every step that I took was a fine, precise, act of balance, every placement of my foot a small work of art. Too slow, too fast, and we'd _tip._ That wouldn't be good. The only reason this worked was this form's inborn grace. I was jealous. Really jealous. Why couldn't I get this as myself? All these powers, all these perks, but as _me_ , not Arianna.

A name. An identity. Expectations for this form. I felt, in a way, I was losing a grip on _me,_ being swallowed in an ocean of images and deals. I found myself hoping that Rasheed was a spy. That he glimpsed something _Taylor_ in that last camera pose. Something awkward, insecure, because really, I was. Not the confident predator that was me when transformed. I _could_ be, though, of that I was sure. A little work and some practice was all it would take. Those plots, those plans, those general insights? I could do that. I know it. After all, that's still me.

Maybe that's why I'd agreed to Assaults plan in the end, just to prove I was _useful,_ though it seemed idiotic. I mean we were walking into a club filled with _Nazis_ after all. He fought them as a hero, they hated me just on principal. How I looked, at least, which was Asian at the time, though I tried to forget this as we neared the club door.

The guard at the entrance was standard fare thug, shaved head and large muscles stuffed into a suit. This might not be fair, I mean he _could_ be intelligent, but I wasn't feeling generous, not with his murderous glare. He didn't budge from the door, lips set in a line, touching his earpiece with a sausage-sized finger.

I turned to the windows, trying to project idle amusement, and my heart skipped a beat as I looked through the glass. What was _he_ doing here? That greasy haired man? The same one from the hospital, I'd seen him yesterday. On second thought, I could see how he fit. If my guess was right, if he really was Hookwolf, this would make perfect sense. I'd only _guessed_ he was earlier, but the label made sense.

He stuck out in a crowd of refined features and clothes with his rough, brown jacket and casual slouch. Intense blue eyes peeked from beneath heavy brows, one of them raising when he noticed my gaze. He grinned, sharp and fierce, standing up from his table, unsettling the people who were fawning around him. I looked away slowly; though I wanted to bolt, I had an impression to make, and hesitance wasn't in it.

"You two shouldn't be here," the guard growled as we approached, holding his ground, refusing to budge. I was surprised he hadn't run, Assault was quite intimidating. He's a Veteran hero with combat experience who has even fought _Endbringers_ and come out alive. This thug at the door? He wouldn't even last for two seconds. He knew this, we knew this, but he still didn't move. That either took guts or rampant stupidity, and I chalked it to the latter, if purely out of spite.

"Why not?" Assault asked, taking out a hand mirror. He made a show of looking in it, passing it over to me. I paused for a bit, not sure what to do, but he tapped his open skin and I realized what he meant. While this form was Asian, I was _incredibly_ white, my skin closer to crème than anything of my own. Another reason to be jealous; these were really piling up. 'Arianna' was born lucky. Taylor was not.

I passed back the mirror and Assault took it with a flourish, placing it in a small groove in his armor. It had quite a few of those, probably for holding more items, holdouts or aces if his powers weren't enough. Kind of like my bag, but I'd had to leave mine at Calvert's. 'We'll be on Patrol' Assault had said. 'That ruins the image.'

His meaning was obvious now that we were at the club, but I still missed its contents, even though most of it wouldn't be useful here. A pen, some paper, pepper spray and a knife. Just a little Swiss one, in case it was needed.

"I don't see the problem," Assault said, grinning widely. "We're both white enough, without a blemish on our skin."

The guard looked up, glaring at us both, his gaze lingering on me before crossing his arms.

"None of this matters, club rules are rules. You're not getting in without being approved by the boss."

"Really?" Assault asked, speaking louder, but not shouting. "I thought skin was the criteria, I can't find anything else."

"We're a high society club," the guard said with a scowl. "You both don't count, and that _woman_ isn't decent. She should go back to the slums."

I deliberately tilted my head, leaning into Assault, wondering what he would say if I wore my hoodie instead. Pretty much all this form had was a hoodie and a tank; well, that's all I would wear _._ Everything else felt too fancy, or fashionable…too Emma. Assault hesitated again, but he completed the motion, laying a smooth armored arm across the breadth of my shoulders.

I understood where he came, even if I didn't get his hesitance. This was uncomfortable, and forced, but we were projecting an image, one that _I_ hadn't suggested, his idea in the first place.

That being said, my heart was beating too quickly; a flush ran up my shoulders and my face held a grimace. They couldn't really see it, what with my face behind a mask, but it was there, it remained, and it would probably stay. The club wasn't inviting, not to me at least, and the ears atop my head twitched to their loudly whispered words.

'It's a chink."

'Why the nerve!'

'Assault's a race traitor?'

They said more along those lines, though to be fair, I shouldn't have heard. There was a door in between us, sound resistant I think. Normal people couldn't hear, and I'm pretty sure that Assault couldn't either.

"High society," Assault mocked, waving a hand at the window. I saw a flash from the background and had to stop myself from turning my head. Paparazzi were behind us, drawn by our presence, the new cape on the block and an old, established favorite. Assault's hand stayed in the air as he played this for the press, sweeping across the windows in a slow, strong motion. "Yes, I see what you mean. Aryan standards _did_ drop since the end of the war, what with skinheads and layabouts as your new ruling class."

His hand sweep had emphasized those that fit his description, the men in ratty, cheap suits or the obvious gang bangers. Another camera flashed behind us and the press grew closer. The guard didn't seem to like this, moving back a few steps. Curious that he hadn't done so earlier, but maybe he didn't like cameras? Still, he didn't budge, looking obstinate, but didn't get any further, the door sliding open for that greasy haired man. Could-be-Hookwolf grabbed his shoulder to stop the guy from speaking.

"Don't worry my friend," he said, speaking loudly, one hand in his pocket, "these people are my guests." Then he turned back to the club. Assault's grin turned to a sneer, but it lost some of its effect since you couldn't see his eyes, and he followed right after them with an annoying jerk in his step that made walking even harder. Was he trying to do that, or was he just that angry? I was half tempted to just abandon his arm, but decided against it. Doing so now that we're actually in the club could only hurt us, and it gave me something to concentrate on besides the people around us.

Everyone seemed so _angry_ in here, their noses in the air and their eyes burning bright, muttering dire imprecations beneath every breath. Some were directed at us, but mostly at me, others directed at _him,_ Could-be-Hookwolf, apparently named Brad, the man that we followed.

'Do you think that he'll kill her?'

'Oh, I really hope so.'

'Brad and his guests…maybe she's good for the pits.'

I didn't like this. I mean _really_ didn't like this. This felt something like Winslow, but _worse,_ not just petty insults and rumors I could ignore, but people actually wanting me _dead._ I could hardly believe this was actually real, I thought people only thought like this in cartoons, as cliché's, or in the E88. I mean, Nazi's didn't really affect _me,_ did they? They'd been a side consideration in my life. Apparently some bullies never grow up.

There was a _clink_ to my left as I tried not to turn, almost losing my cool. That sound was reminiscent of Seka's bombs being armed, but that was impossible, right? We were in a club. No one would bring one here, or use one if they did. That would wreck merry hell on their friends and establishment. So yeah, it's impossible. No way one was here.

But then again, would looking really hurt?

I snuck a look, just in case, and nearly sighed in relief. Just a fork, _thank Scion,_ nothing to worry myself over.

Calm down Taylor, they wouldn't really kill you. Two heroes going missing would be more than they could handle, press wise at least. But still…where _was_ Brad taking us? It wasn't to one of the tables. It was past them, somewhere _further,_ deeper into the club.

I moved my head closer to Assault's armored ear, whispering as low as I could, which was _still_ picked up by my mask, almost indecipherable thanks to the synthesizer's dual tone.

"Where do you think we are going?"

"How would I know?" he retorted, his lips barely moving. "Nice place, I'll admit, but it's really not my style. First time coming to this place myself."

"We should probably leave," I murmured under my breath. "Those people? They all want us _dead,_ think we're going to 'the pits.'"

"That's their issue, not mine," Assault said, shrugging infuriatingly, forcing me to use more effort in the next few steps. The grin on his face seemed wider by the second, showing more teeth as we broke from the wider Nazi crowd. "You think they'll try to fight us?"

"Yes."

"Then _let_ them. I know it's not obvious, but I'm experiencing _stress._ Cracking heads helps relieve that."

"But what about the plan?" I asked.

" _What_ plan," he responded, visor turning my way. "The plan ceased to exist. It's gone. Kaput. The guy in front of us managed to kill it before it was born. I wanted to make a scene or create a ruckus to shake the Empire up. Get them angry, find a scapegoat. A simple application of pressure. This is _way_ more than I'd ever expected. I'll bet you, right now, that this guy is high up."

"I'd agree," I whispered. Brad parted that crowd like a knife through hot butter. I chalked another line for the Is-Hookwolf side, Not-Hookwolf basically saying, 'Well, I never saw him change.' I decided to be done with it and just label him Hookwolf. Safer to assume that's who he is than be surprised if he strikes.

"Still, this only means that we're likely in danger," I pointed out, hoping to make him see reason.

"Nonsense," Assault said, depressing a pad on his visor. I didn't see anything visible, but it probably had a purpose. He raised his voice when he next spoke, and it carried to Brad. "The empire already killed one cape. They kill another? They're _done._ "

Brad turned, but didn't respond, his eyes raking my form. I met his gaze best I could. The mask really helped. It's not like its eyes could blink, could they? My head just had to keep steady. So while he stared I looked around the hall, checking for routes and exits and possible doors. The walls seemed thinnest to the left, or at least closer to the street. If it came down to it I could use my ball and break us an exit. There was the way that we came from, and I tracked a man's footsteps, making his way to the roof, stepping on stairs down the corner. If I was reading the footsteps of someone walking there correctly…Left, right, left, then a door in the corner. Not saying we'd need them, but this was just case. I'd learned my lesson from yesterday. Always plan ahead.

You'd think Assault, a veteran hero, would _live_ by this rule. Then again, he _is_ still grieving. Him and Battery were close. You mention one and you hear of the other. There were even speculations that they could have been _married._

I returned to myself when Brad broke off his stare as he placed a hand on a door and pushed his way through. Assault followed while I frowned, hearing a new noise. I tugged a bit on his arm and so we stopped right before it, and Brad turned around, his gaze relaxed and stance casual. He held an air of anticipation, some fire in his eyes, his four day stubble adding menace and his toothy grin wasn't helping. He looked like this one guy who works under my dad, grizzled and tough, but _meaner,_ and fierce. He was openly _admitting_ something was up, but challenging me to go through all the same.

Was I going to? Of course not! I'm not stupid. But Assault shifted, chomping at the bit, impatient and _angry_ , letting his feelings run wild.

"Getting cold feet?" Brad accused, leaning his hand on the door. I couldn't _see_ anyone right past him, but I could hear some murmurs.

"I'm not foolish," I retorted. "We're walking into a trap."

"It's not a trap," he replied, "just a good place to talk."

"The room was soundproofed," I countered, "and holds fou-no, _six_ people. If you just want to talk then we can do so right here."

A hand touched my shoulder and I looked up, Assaults too-wide grin spreading across my vision.

"But Kit, we're the guests here, we have responsibilities. We can't keep them waiting, that would be _rude_."

"I'm not moving," I repeated, standing my ground. Brad turned to me, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm not the one who wants to talk. He's in there."

"If he really does want to talk, have him come out _here_."

"He is Kaiser," Brad said.

"That does not matter," I breathed. "I will not go in there. Send him out or I leave."

Brad's stomach heaved with a deep belly laugh, hand slamming against the doorframe to help keep him upright. He looked like he needed it, he seemed about to tip over, but he composed himself somewhat, his face bearing witness to quick, sporadic grins.

"He comes to you?" Brad said. "That is rich. No, it's hilarious! First time I've heard it said."

"My point stands," I said, back straight, hands clasped. Brad shook his head, but went through the door.

"I guarantee nothing, but I will give your ultimatum. Do not be surprised if nothing gets done."

The door closed with a slam and all sound cut off. Assault tapped on his visor, and I leaned against the wall, sweat forming, pulse pounding, and let out my held breath. I unclenched my fists, forcing my teeth to unclench, trying to relax the tension in my back.

An ultimatum, to _Kaiser._ What the hell was I thinking?

"I have to say," Assault mused, "that wasn't expected. You didn't act this way on patrol, or through the club. It directly contradicts _either_ of my impressions. Bravo, by the way, I believe congratulations are in order. You have successfully managed to piss off Kaiser." He finished that off with a slow, obnoxious clap.

My head hit the wall, and I let myself slide, raising a hand to my neck, trying to work out the kinks. I reached for my mask before stopping, hands knotting, and they fell to my sides. By back slid down the wall till my legs reached the floor, and I leaned forwards, cradling my head in my hands.

"Not that I'm complaining," Assault continued blithely. "I was hoping to fight him, and this works out well."

"The hospital," I said.

"The hospital?"

"Yes. That's what this resembles. The PRT van. Someone walking in, voluntarily, there's bait. Something they wanted or something to gain. It even has the same people, E88, and _Hookwolf._ "

"Hookwolf?"

"Doesn't matter," I said, waving him away. He stared for a moment before nodding in agreement, not reaching down to help me, but not dismissing me either. It was silent, just me, the lights, and the small sounds of footsteps, the cool floor, the high ceiling and rough brown of the walls.

"There's no trap," Assault said. "They have too much to lose. They already killed one hero; they can't afford to kill another. The entire Protectorate would respond if they did, they'd get wiped off the map. Don't worry, we're safe."

 _Says the man here for vengeance. You think they don't want the same?_

I didn't say that, keeping silent as I slowly stood up. Assault had his hand on the wall and was staring straight at, doing _something,_ I'm sure, his mouth a grim line. Energy storage. That's what the wiki said. Is that really his power, or more like energy _control?_ If that is what he has, then even if that's soundproof…

"You were looking for a lead; at least, that's what you said."

"I did," he responded, hand still on the wall. He wore a look of concentration, his fingers probing gently.

"But you aren't really," I prompted.

"Not at all," he responded. I stared, frustrated, banging my elbow on the wall.

"Then you brought me for what, provocation? You weren't trying to investigate, you were looking for a fight."

"Just so," he agreed, barely paying me mind.

"That wasn't very heroic."

"I'm not much of a hero."

"Then why join the Protectorate?"

"For Battery. Thats all."

He fell silent after that, fingers testing the wall.

I'm not, apparently, a very good hero myself.

Assault smiled, bringing a hand to his helmet before turning towards me. "Kit, we're going live. You're leading this dance."

I nodded, standing straight, and he pushed a visor pad. He'd done this three times before.

 _Going Live? Just what did he mean?_

Ghosts burst through the walls to our left, settling behind us, intangible, invincible, capable of great harm. To our front there was Kaiser, striding straight through the door, medieval armor made of blades, guarded by Fenja and Menja, the giant Valkyrie twins. Cricket stood to his left, Stormtiger to his right, and Brad, no, _Hookwolf_ behind them, the only difference being his mask.

"I didn't want to have to do this," Kaiser said, walking forwards, hands clasped behind his back as swords grew from the walls. They were covered in a lattice, a fresh coat of new steel. Kaiser raised a hand. "I only wanted to talk. It seems however, a demonstration's in order."

He brought his hand down, and blades grew from all sides. Assault tensed beside me, legs spread, fists clenched. I disabled my veil, tails bursting to nine, my ball formed before me, filling straight to the brim, and smiled, unmoving, as the blades closed in.

x-x

3.9

The blades of metal resembled the petals of flowers, a quick, flowing growth in the onset of spring. Each sword was unique in either material or designs, most with delicate, flowing etchings laid into their hilts. Was Kaiser an artist, perhaps, or was this just automatic? Such a shame they would be broken, it was really quite the sight.

Assault's lashing fists scattered blades to the side as my fire lit the hall with an ethereal blue glow. He spun in a circle so his feet touched the shards, flying towards Kaiser in an eerily accurate storm. A wall of blades grew before Kaiser as he was forced to defend, and Assault took that moment to bring a hand to his visor.

"And cut," Assault murmured, so low _I_ could barely hear, depressing the pad in his helmet as he rose from his crouch. Now isn't that curious. Hadn't he said something about going live before?

Assault's strides ate the ground with powerful motions, his steps long, arms swinging, and every movement a torque as the Valkyrie twins rose to his challenge, growing with every stride. Crossing my arms under my chest I leaned back, the wall cooling my neck as I settled down to watch. Hookwolf, apparently, had the same idea, and we stared at each other sharing a silent joke but ready to leap if the other made to move. I knew from our earlier fight that he was accustomed to battle and we recognized this farce for exactly what it was.

The close quarters of the halls gave Kaiser an advantage. His swords could grow quicker, and from various surfaces. They also hindered everyone else, their abilities just not suited for a closed quarter's battle. Fenja and Menja are giants and changers. The larger they grow, the stronger and tougher they become. Their limit, I believe, was forty five feet, but this hall had to be ten at its highest. Stormtiger _could_ fight but not with his winds as he might hurt his own allies if he unleashed them in battle. Cricket was the least inconvenienced out of those in the hall, and even then her acrobatics were hampered by walls. The Empire, severely handicapped. Assault? Not so much.

Amusingly enough, the twin giants made this worse, taking up all the space in their attempt to fight Assault. They effectively limited E88 combatants to three, them and Kaiser's blades, the latter breaking whenever Assault brushed them with his fingers. Fenja thrust forwards with her spear in a bid for Assault who broke into a spin similar to throwing a discus, hand axing the blade. It split with a crack, and she quickly abandoned it, moving to grab Assault in a hold. Sliding past as if greased and running for her sister, he executed a nearly identical strike, shattering her shield in a rain of dark metal.

The two of them pulled back, Menja moving her sword in a threatening manner, cowed and somewhat hesitant after that sudden showing of strength. I couldn't really blame them being surprised myself. Despite watching his videos and fights as a child, I've never seen Assault pull anywhere _near_ this much power. Well, if he was hit this might have been possible, he was seen absorbing punches and hitting back twice as hard, showing some control on his motions but requiring full contact. The moves he's now pulling are on an _entirely_ different level.

He's listed as a Striker 5 cape, but I'd rate him a 7. Storing kinetic energy was his stated power PRT power, though his actions so far imply pure tactile control. I suspect he's absorbing more energy from his movements, his strides not taking him as far as they should. Using the spin to gain more momentum, suddenly ceasing _all_ motion save for the point of the strike…

Masterful uses of his power, if out of practice it seemed, his movements gaining more surety as the battle dragged on. He laid into the giants while keeping them in the forefront, using their bulk to protect himself from the other's support. Metal blades were ignored, shattering where he touched, the Kaiser's stronger constructs taking longer to form. They _did_ pull some of his efforts; he had to put motion to breaking them, but they didn't protect the two sisters from their beating. Body language shifting, they seemed confused, retreating, not that I could blame them, this wasn't expected from Assault.

Growing up in Brockton Bay, I'd always thought him mid-tier at best. His greatest showings and fights were with Battery as a duo. The two had appeared to be equals, their combination high tier, but this is more like what I'd expect from a top hero like _Armsmaster._ He was beating three capes almost casually it seemed, their attempts to hold him steady all broken or ignored. Their hands slid from his sides and their weapons lay shattered, Menja's sword joining the others with a final, bleak crack. His only real threat appeared to be Kaiser's thicker blades, growing progressively larger as the fight continued.

One of the sisters, I couldn't really tell who, appeared fed up with this nonsense, pulling her arm back before driving it forwards with all the force of an angry giantess's body. Her fist dwarfed Assault's head.

He met it with a finger.

She _flew_ through the air, crashing into her sister, plaster raining down from a crack in the wall The one on top groaned, wiping her head with a hand before hissing in pain, leaving a trail of red from a large, bloody gash.

A ghost stirred beside me, the breathing closer to the door. Well, it appears Crusader joins the fray. That would make things more difficult, I'm not so sure I could hurt the intangible. I _know_ Assault can't, so he poses a problem. This would all be so easy if I just used my orb. There are, after all, billions of humans; no one will miss a few dead bad seeds. Expedient? Yes. Heroic? Not quite.

Decisions, decisions. But do I even need to help? Assault has this well in hand; I doubt the ghosts will pose a problem. He's skilled enough they shouldn't really matter. Besides, these people aren't very interesting. Fighting them would be boring. But a man bent on vengeance?

Well. Now that's fun to watch.

Sighting across the fight I waved a hand at poor Hookwolf, his stance growing tighter as his subordinates stepped up. Kaiser, for his part, clasped his hands behind his back; no longer bothering with motions as the metal grew inwards, forgoing the bindings for small, sharp enhancements, edges appearing on Nazi armor and daggers in their hands. Smarter then, and it seemed to be working, Assault's blows lacking force when he encountered the ridges. He can't use his power to both attack and defend?

Stormtiger rushed from his left and Cricket to his right, moving in step with a practiced air to their motions. Scattered blades and splintered steel impeded their progress, but they managed, moving past with barely a pause. Cricket leapt forwards, lashing out with her scythes, while Stormtiger stayed nearby, just outside Assault's range. Cricket's scythes swept low to the ground with Assault kicking towards them with a shattering blow. Stormtiger _moved,_ coming in from the side with a sweeping claw strike, his other just behind.

Assault kicked off Cricket's weapon as if launching from a trampoline, neatly avoiding both blows in exchange for losing some ground. One of the twins was rejoining the fight, Kaiser's blades coating her armor, while cuts lined Assault's from the ridges he'd hit. He moved a hand beneath his back, and something popped from his gauntlet, settling into his palm, a small ball bearing. Leaning forwards to watch I manifested my ball, tossing in lightly with a smile on my face but _something_ bugged me, the flaking of paint, a scratch on the cieling-

I leaned to my left, a transparent blade whipping past my face in an eerie, windless motion making _absolutely no sound._ Dark flutters of hair streamed down to the ground, and I touched my cheek where some locks had been cut.

Everything froze as Cricket stopped midflight, hanging in the air with her scythe swinging down. I walked past her, gently pushing her blade, angling it for a miss and nudging Stormtiger's feet. I left Fenja and Menja supporting each other as they were, imparting _some_ essence into Assault as I passed. Striding past Kaiser and moving over to Crusader, I reached a hand to his neck, stroking his neck with a finger. I spent a small moment imagining my nails in his eyes before reaching deep inside him, touching his essence and _drained._

Memories and images, a cheery house on fire. I drained his flame away as my own power _still_ waned. The gain wasn't enough to counteract the cost of moving through time, but I kept going till he had nothing but embers. His hands moved up slowly, and everyone turned to where I stood, but I smiled, released the effect, and he fell in a heap. My hair dropped in the background, a barely audible whisper. Only a quarter of my essence remaining, but no matter.

"You shouldn't have done that," I said, crouching besides him, caressing his helmet, his body lolling on the ground. "I wasn't about to interfere, but I'm afraid you forced my hand. I'm sorry, Crusader. I really, really am."

His eyes moved wildly beneath his helmet, check muscles twitching, to apologize, perhaps? I heard a high, metallic _shink,_ and cool metal stroked my neck, the edge of the blade cutting the smallest of hairs.

"He's not dead," I said, turning, admiring the work on the blade. I raised a hand, pushing it gently, watching it fall to the side. "Earlier, I believe, you wanted to talk." Kaiser inclined his head, grounding his sword in a two handed grip.

Tilting my head to the left I rose to meet Kaiser, a sway in my steps and a lilt in my voice.

"Well, here I am. Tell me a secret."

x-x

3.10

Kaiser's armor is a study in definition, the contours of his body covered, or indeed enhanced, by a multitude of blades. Running my fingers up his arms produced a shifting of steel, blades growing or shrinking to accommodate his movement. I laid my cheek on his chest, or rather mask as it was, feeling the cool metal pulse with his every breath. His heart beat to the pitter of rabbit's feet, a constant quick thumping that belied his actual pose. Straight backed and assertive, he hadn't moved at my approach, his hand clasped on the hilt of a sword in the ground.

Such an interesting man, not at all how I've pictured him. The words 'Nazi' and 'Scum' were bandied about, along with retorts of 'Aryan' and 'Leader'. Winslow could never seem to make up its mind, though the crowd leaned towards the former being based near the docks. The ABB understandably had a larger representation. They also missed words such as 'Grandstanding' and 'Prideful'.

Brave too, despite his fear.

I pressed myself against him, looking up, smiling, a motion copied by my mask, the jaws of bone parting in, as I imagined it, a terrifying way. I couldn't see his shiver, but I could feel it through his blades, a sudden shifting of metal and rearranging of points, from the bottom of the toes to the tip of his crowned helm.

One of these days I will have to see why people seem terrified of my presence and movements. Perhaps I'll take a recording, say a few lines, and watch it when I'm normal to observe the differences. The video from the parking lot really didn't do me any justice, some standing, some walking, and a delayed car explosion. Absolutely boring by any metric really, show none of the more interesting changes I experience.

"I wouldn't call it a secret," Kaiser said, moving a hand to my shoulder. I let him push me away, brushing his armor with my tails. "A misunderstanding would be closer to the truth."

"Really," I breathed. "Care to continue?"

"Of course," he said, pushing me gently. I moved away smiling. His heart hadn't slowed down. Hookwolf moved beside Kaiser and Assault to my right, Hookwolf a mass of spinning blades and Assault in cut and dented armor, a splatter of blood on his cheek. Not his of course, his skin remained unblemished, but along with lean movements and too-toothy grin…well, they just felt like they fit him, like a man returned home. His feral air on the other hand seemed wholly out of place.

"So, misunderstanding?" I prompted, watching him squirm, and his heart rate spiked again. How delightful to hear. He waved his hand casually, taking a look around the room, to the shattered blades and cracked walls and small stains of blood. When his gaze turned to Hookwolf I saw the whirring blades shake, moving a hand to the wrist.

My ears twitched. Faint footstep in the background. Kaiser took that moment to make a grandiose gesture, arms spreading to his sides, sword still standing upright, looking with deep deliberation towards the Nazi's around us.

Ah, well then, Hookwolf's the tactician, Kaiser the orator, which would explain why we fought, Hookwolf knew better. Kaiser must have been the one to call the battle order. Not exactly how they are portrayed, but then, who is? Seka wasn't how I expected, and Lung even more so, though I suspect that had more to do with not knowing Lung better.

Getting to know him. Now wasn't that a pleasant thought. He's interesting enough and his holdings are large, and then there was his deal to clean up the docks…

Assuming Seka's implication was right of course.

"Look around you," Kaiser said, hands dropping to clasp behind his back. "What makes up an Empire?"

"Fanatics and delusions?" Assault asked from my side. Still hesitant to touch me despite the image he had wanted, opting to stand a bit apart, our arms almost touching.

"People," Kaiser said, ignoring Assault. "And what are people but individuals? They don't all follow orders. They have ambitions and goals."

"That coincide with your own," Assault said, cutting in, moving forwards for a bit.

"True," Kaiser admitted. "We looked for the same results."

Assault's heart stuttered for a moment before coming back in full force.

" _Really_ ," he said, his grin growing larger. "I wouldn't have known."

His sarcasm seemed thick enough to that a sword wouldn't cut it. Kaiser's armor certainly didn't, and his feet shifted beneath him, sensing he had done something wrong, though he couldn't tell _what._ Utterly delightful is what this skit was, I was beginning to believe the Empire wasn't behind, or even in the know, of Battery's death. This approach was too crude for Kaiser's usual methods. He's a man of good presence and _excellent_ control. Every motion is placed, practiced for its effect, the line of his shoulders commanding, the spread of his feet projecting solidity.

"But while there was much to be gained the plan was too risky," Kaiser said, one hand rising, the other held down. "Too much risk for the reward, we chose not to support him."

"Of course not, why would you?" Assault growled out. He moved closer, floor cracking with every step that he took. "You wouldn't want to be caught, but if he succeeded, what then? Your goals are still accomplished and the crime won't be traced to you."

"Well," Assault added. "Unless people don't like you. They might just search for _excuses._ Now was that motive I heard?"

Assault's heels hit the ground with a sudden, sharp cracking, and cracks surged from beneath him towards where Kaiser stood. None of his usual witticisms were forthcoming right now, instead relying on sheer physical presence to mow down Kaiser. He was succeeding as well if Kaiser's heart was any indication, every cracking step heralding a spike in his heart.

Should I stop this? Perhaps. Well no, almost certainly. I couldn't live with myself if I didn't. Assault seemed liable to commit murder, his mercy forgotten. But of course that didn't mean that I had to stop him now. Wouldn't it be better to wait? See how this all plays out. For information, of course. To see what I may learn.

"Yes," Kaiser said, still appearing in control. "Motive? Of course. If the Asians were weakened they would be easier to strike. Miss Nakane just happened to be a powerful uniting force, so…"

"I'm not talking about Nakane," Assault said, reaching Kaiser, his steps shattering the ground beneath him, causing the Empire's leader to stumble. "I'm talking about Battery _."_

"Battery?" Kaiser asked. Was that confusion I heard? "What does Battery have to do with-"

The wall shattered behind him, Assault's armored fist lodged within. " _Why did Victor kill my wife_?"

A little too much learned there.

Kaiser started, and Hookwolf finally stirred.

"He what?"

"That was him?"

Assault's fist reared back, his grin more a grimace, his whole body twisting and his fingers extending. Kaiser's feet shifted as if to move, and Hookwolf charged to the front-

"They didn't know," I cut in, walking over to his side, dancing around the blades and cracks to lower his hand with my own. "They're telling the truth as they know it."

" _How do you know?"_

"Their hearts," I said, smiling. "Well, mainly Hookwolf's. His heart remained steady before the shock of your words. It was hard to read anything behind the beat of Kaiser's fear. You made reading him a lot harder when you started your march." Assault stopped his movement, an inch from Kaiser's face. No wind, nothing moved. All motion just stopped.

"You're positive," he said.

"I am," I agreed. The silence dragged on. Kaiser still didn't move. Hookwolf saw something, and snorted, turning away, casting a gaze in my direction. Well, from what I could tell of his blades.

Assault's teeth had vanished for a moment, and he stood, arm extended, frozen in the middle of his strike before he sighed, standing up, taking a mocking half bow.

"My apologies," He said, sighing, "I can be a bit of a clown." He drew a card from his pocket. Kaiser took it with grace. His heart sped up suddenly, a spike in his blood. Such a delicious little sound, like a rabbit's foot thumping as it runs from the hunt. Pitter-patter, pitter-patter. Run, little rodent, I'm coming after your crown. Well, another time and place then if Lung solidifies the deal. We're not at war yet after all so there's no reason to bother.

"Call me with information if you learn anything of a 'C'," Assault said, striding towards me with a jaunt in my step. "I might repay you with a favor. Or, we're fighting; I might just let you go. Don't worry, I'll dial on easy. It's what you're used to after all."

Kaiser gave a sharp, confident nod, despite the thumping of his heart. A brave, powerful man, moving on despite fear. Perhaps thinking himself lucky, or returning to his favored area of battle. Words, stances, politics and connections. That's the impression he gave me from his earlier actions. The control, all the motions, the battlefield wasn't his. It belonged to another.

I nodded to Hookwolf. He nodded right back. If my deal with Lung came about, this wouldn't be our latest encounter, just our greatest peace. I will remember this later as I tear out his essence. It will be hard fought and hard won, but there's little doubt it will happen. But for now time to prepare, there's battle on the horizon…

"Ah! That reminds me," Assault said, his finger in the air, grin once more in place. He tapped his helmet absently, motioning to a button in the back. "I came here expecting a fight and looking for revenge. Posting a big scene on the internet from the middle of the club. But getting as far as I did…let's just say I didn't expect it."

Kaiser paused, he'd been stepping, turning to where Assault stood.

"You'll delete them of course."

"Of course," Assault agreed. "But I'm afraid that won't matter. You see I wanted revenge _quickly._ So I sent it to your enemies. The ABB, the Protectorate, the PRT, the merchants, the smaller gangs, some miscellaneous…along with the locations of your safe houses. We recently came across an _extremely_ good information broker. The police put me in touch when I looked into the case."

Kaiser cursed something in german. Hookwolf's fist hit the wall. He strode down the hall before pausing, turning to look back my way. "Kitsune." I nodded.

"Hookwolf."

"You're ABB?"

"No, independent."

"Can I convince you stay out?"

I thought of the docks.

"No," I said, smiling, "I really don't think so."

"Then I'll see you in battle," he said, turning, and opened the door.

I saw men. I saw guns.

Assault broke through a wall. I followed, laughing, tracing my fingers through the air. A simple image of a fox, wrought of blue fire.

x-x


	7. Chapter 7

**Dreaming of Foxfire Part 3: Juxtaposition**

 **First comes the blessing of all that you've dreamed**

1.1

The omelet flipped to my plate from the skillet as Dad deftly worked the other one with his hand. Sniffing the air, I savored the scent. Filled with peppers, onions, mushrooms and sausage, it was a savory breath of heaven compared to our usual plain fare. Dad was showing some teeth from the corner of his mouth, his lips twitching upwards and his glasses in pocket. He stopped making the omelet for a quick sip of coffee before spinning back to the pans with a quick little twirl.

I smiled despite myself, placing my plate on the table before I went for the fridge which opened with a hiss and a spill of ice cold air.

"Orange juice today?" I asked, my hand already reaching for the carton.

"You got it kiddo!"

 _Success._

Getting our glasses from the cabinet I set them on the table pouring half a glass each before heading back to the fridge.

"Go ahead and top them off," Dad said, giving the pan one last flip. The omelet landed on his plate, and he went for the silverware. I topped us both off before grabbing the napkins, our seats scratching the floor as we both sat down.

"Are you sure I can't come?" I asked, just to check. Dad's head shook as he bit into the omelet, spraying some egg. He laughed and then cleaned it.

"Sorry Taylor," he said with a shrug, "You know I'd love to, but take your daughter to work day isn't exactly a thing for Union representatives."

"I know," I said, keeping my smile, though I inwardly drooped a bit, even though I knew it was coming. "You can't blame me for trying though. Today is a big a day." Dad nodded.

"Maybe the biggest I've ever had! Well, the day you were born was bigger, and my first meeting with your mother…" His smile, while bittersweet, was tinged with nostalgia, not sadness, and he sat up, omelet finished, before striding towards his ironing board. His best suit was laid out along with his best tie, both warm and flat from their recent press. As he tugged on his over shirt and began to wrestle with his tie I picked up both of our plates and began to wash them in the sink.

"I think I like Mr. Jackson," dad said as he ironed. "He has a good business sense and a _great_ head on his shoulders. He's a true visionary; people will talk of him long after he's gone. He's done more good for the docks with this deal than the mayor has managed from his office in _years._ "

I rolled my eyes while he wasn't looking while washing the suds from my hand. I wonder how dad would react if I told him it wasn't Jackson but Lung who was footing the bill? I'd _like_ to say he would be disgusted but knowing how much this means to him…well, it would be hard to say whether that would matter or not.

My smile slipped again, and I covered up my sigh, putting away the dishes with an audible clatter. Dad either ignored this or didn't notice it, busy polishing his briefcase, an old leather thing that he thought made him look dignified. I thought it made him look old, but would he listen? No…

"I'll see you later!" dad called.

"Good luck!" I said, not returning his farewell. He waved as he left, arm flailing through the air, his grin turned to a smile as he entered the car. It's a rental of course, not our normal banged up one, all sleek lines and silver paint with an awesome interior. As he pulled from the driveway I waved right back, my smile only slipping once he was well out of view.

The walk up to my room was a slow, steady plod. This wasn't going to be very fun, but like any chore I had to get it over with quickly, so I rummaged through my closet, searching for my bag. I pressed the speed dial one before waiting. One beeps. Two beeps. Three beeps. There.

"I'm ready," I said, before shutting the phone. A minute later there was a honk from the front as Seka waved from the car, blue eyes alight with a Cheshire grin.

-

"All changed and everything?" Seka asked from the front, her hand on the wheel in a casual, relaxed manner.

"Just about," I said, slipping on the new shoes. Business casual was the name of the game, so fancy slacks, a nice shirt, and a small unbuttoned vest.

"Hey Sierra-"

"It's Arianna right now," I interrupted with a sigh. "You're the one who picked my name; you should know this by now."

"Cool your jets," she said, rolling her eyes. "Kenta's the one who chose it, not me. Besides its only been what, five days now?"

"Yeah," I said. "I can't believe it's been this quiet."

"Everyone's preparing," she said with a shrug. "The Nazis are preparing while we're just gathering resources." Her eyes shifted in the rearview mirror, and I just rolled my eyes. That would be me I suppose. Checking my briefcase just for something to do, I flipped through the papers, just trying to relax.

"You know, you don't need those," Seka said, turning back, her foot on the break and one hand on the wheel. "They're all just for show, just need to give him the signs. You have three vetoes remember that, or three deals that will happen for sure."

"I got it," I said, impatience leaking through my voice. I'd been reading up on business speak just for this meeting. Turning to the mirror I practiced my smile, not too big, not too small, just enough to seem relaxed, my eyes tilted that way, my chin up _this_ high. I really did look like a completely different person, especially with the mannerisms I've been practicing till now. Instead of Taylor with my glasses, height issues and curly brown hair, I saw a smooth Asian beauty playing the part of the intern.

"And don't let Jackson get to you," Seka continued. I winced before turning, glaring at her through the mirror.

"I really hate his nickname you know," I said, growling a bit as I combed some hair back. The uptight fussy Korean really got on my nerves, always pushing my buttons, trying to put me in my place. Kenta and Seka didn't seem to want to help either, sometimes going so far as to shoot him pitying glances. Really, like _he_ was the one with the issues.

"Yeah," Seka said brightly, "But you have to admit, it fits rather well. Even has the same meaning as your brand spanking new name."

"Uh-huh," I mumbled, quickly checking my notes. Seka rolled her eyes through the mirror before her gaze shifted forwards, and she jerked to a stop.

"We're here."

"All right."

Here, as it was, was a an elegant building with simple designs highlighted in gold. We walked to the door and the guards nodded as we passed, the same one's I'd seen at the Casino before. They'd been very respectful after the one time we met, going so far as to bow while their boss just stayed rude.

Kenta met us in the hall; arms crossed and chin down with his back against the wall and legs angled before him. His gaze snapped to ours and he gave us a nod, looking every bit the bodyguard in his black leather coat. There was a gun on his hip and a bud in his ear, the first mostly for show; with the latter he gave orders. I always think that it's funny how he plays the street tough when he's running the show in plain sight of others.

"Let's go," he said, and I took a breath, nodding. Seka slapped my hand as she left, whistling a tune, her shoes slapping the halls, her purse slung over one shoulder.

"Send me the vids," she said, passing Kenta. He chuckled, amused, a deep rumble in his chest.

Taking a breath, again, to help steady my nerves, I plastered on that cool smile as we walked to the door.

"Good morning," I said, moving through. "I hope we're not interrupting."

"Oh not at all, glad you're finally here," Mr. Jackson said with a wave of his hands, turning away from his conversation with a practiced grace. His hair was slicked back and his smile was wide, but it didn't touch his eyes, at least not when looking at me. "This is my assistant; she's an intern for now. Her name's Ahri."

"Arianna," I corrected, extending my hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you Mr. Hebert."

"Likewise," Dad said.

-x-

1.2

What unsettled me the most had to be the handshake. It wasn't like the usual, what I and dad always share, warm with familiarity and comfortable, relaxed. Seka didn't shake like this either, nor Emma when we were friends. That was more of a casual, flighty thing, full of good humor and fun. No, this shake was cold, impersonal, and impeccably polite, the greeting of strangers, a good, firm shake.

I didn't like it. Not one bit. I probably would have given myself away then and there in my haste to escape if dad's grip wasn't so strong, and my face not frozen in a smile. As it is, that deer in headlights instinct saved my act long enough for dad to drop the handshake before leaning back in his seat, a comfortable looking affair of hard wood and soft cushions.

"So you're an intern," he mused, his brows furrowing in that most familiar way, completely at odds with his expression of polite interest and curiosity. The door, barely cracked, called to me at that moment, but I ignored that, if barely, in favor of answering his question.

"For now," I responded, managing to thrust the ice from my muscles. Not too much though or I might give myself away, so minimal lip movement with minimal words. Keep it polite, short, and simple for now.

"Ambitious?" dad asked, breaking into a grin, a different showing of teeth that I was used to at home. Is _this_ how he is at all of his pitches? If so, I'm surprised he didn't succeed more often. Just the right combination of friendly and distant, but still close enough that he could relate. I shivered, stomach knotting, though he didn't seem to notice, thank goodness, my nerves didn't need any more sudden shocks.

"Well I suppose you have reason," he continued, "I mean look at you now! Barely what, nineteen?"

"Twenty-one," I corrected, the lie coming easily, yet with a small taste of bile in the back of my throat. Practice makes perfect, and that was a result, but how far was I willing to go to be a liar?

"Twenty-one," he said, smiling. "And you've already come this far, trusted by such an important man of the likes of Mr. Jackson."

Mr. Jackson's head rose from the papers he'd been stacking, piling them perfectly and checking their angles. It wasn't very obvious but I saw the barest of twitches, right on his cheek, a small crinkling in the corner of eyes. Well, till he saw me, then he hmphed back to his papers, running a hand through his slicked-back, neat hair.

"It's no big deal," I said, brushing it away with a wave, using his words as an excuse to break away from his gaze. I think my knees would start shaking and my heart already broke from being treated as a stranger by my _dad_ of all people.

"I would have to disagree," dad said with a chuckle. "You have done very well. I'm sure your parents must be proud."

 _If only you knew._ That thought echoed through my mind, but after a moment I smiled before begging off with a nod. Dad returned to Mr. Jackson as he finished stacking the papers, cataloging them evenly to some metric he ascribed to. I took a seat at the back, next to where Kenta stood, overtly casual, arms crossed, but his gaze lit on me, searching.

Hopefully Seka kept her promise and didn't reveal my identity, my Taylor one at least; he's the one who made Arianna. If criminals got ahold of it – and Kenta certainly counted as one, no matter how amused or relaxed he seemed at any given time – then this would be bad, _very_ bad, at least for my dad. He could skip this whole meeting and simply use him as leverage.

There was always the chance he might figure things out; despite how Lung says he's not clever, that's _exactly_ what he is. Not intelligent in the book sense, his vocabulary was limited, but from my insights in his meeting from my other selfs mind… he was dangerous, that's for certain, he has good instincts as well. Better make this my best showing, both for me and for dad.

Crossing my legs as I sat and placing my briefcase on the floor, I took out my notes and other papers, looking towards Kenta, feeling my cheeks heat a little, smiling somewhat hesitantly in response to his gaze. His brow arched when he saw them, my neat little notes, with their annotations and broad points and my best fancy writing, but he said nothing though he snorted and leaned back against the wall, eyes trained on the meeting held between his aide and my father. I don't know why I was embarrassed, I mean I know nothing about business, but something in his gaze told me that I'd undershot what he expected.

"Remember," Kenta rumbled deep under his breath, his expression stern and serious, a hidden flame in his gaze. "You have three chances and vetoes. No more, no less."

Three vetoes. That's what I have to work with, three chances is all. No doubt they'll have prepared some points beforehand to try to rid of them for free. I'd have to follow the cues that my dad would soon give, the familiar twitches of confidence or the flush of dark anger. Well, if he still used those in a meeting like this, but my dad's always been passionate, I'm sure I'd still recognize his tells.

"Well," Mr. Jackson said, smiling, placing his pen down with precision. "Let's begin, shall we?"

My dad smiled in response. I squirmed, getting comfortable, resting my chin on my hand. Kenta shifted besides me, by all appearances completely bored.

"Then first on the list…"

-

The meeting went as well as could be expected. Even better really, I hadn't found any red herrings. I ended up using my three vetoes on small points that my dad seemed to want but Mr. Jackson seemed grudging. I'd honestly thought the man would have been more abrasive, but his disagreements had reason and his points had great merit. I mean I know Kenta wouldn't hire him just because he looked the part, but to my perspective –with little research and experience – he seemed like he really knew what to do.

My dad's muscles were relaxed and his gaze rested easy, looking happier, if not ecstatic, than he had in a while. I stretched out my legs before me – they were stiff – in an attempt to remove all the pins and the needles. I also relaxed, just a little, from the big business mindset, I mean they were about to wrap up so it's not like I needed to keep this up much longer. I rubbed at the back of my neck, pushing away the waves of my hair.

It looked like everyone had the same idea: Kenta was cracking his neck, dad was packing his briefcase. Mr. Jackson was tidying his pens. Again. But before he could move to ball pen number three, dad paused, hand on briefcase, before turning to the man.

"So this is just a longshot after everything you've done for us, but how would you feel about reviving the ferry?"

"Too expensive." Jackson said, sniffing. My dad stiffened. Oh boy. This wasn't looking so good.

"That simple?"

"That simple," Jackson said as he straightened pen number five. "There's a time and place for everything and the ferry's has long since passed. There's nothing to gain from that old wreck, better to sink it in the bay."

"I'd have to disagree," dad argued, moving forwards. "That ferry was what made Brockton Bay a city at all."

"Was, past tense," Jackson countered with aplomb. "Now it's just an eyesore even tourists won't see."

" _An eyesore,"_ dad said, before he regained control of his features.

"It is what it is." Jackson said as he leaned forwards, folding his hands beneath his chin. "The ferry made the Bay, yes, but no one comes to Brockton to _see_ the bay anymore. They come here for the Protectorate, the Boardwalk, the PRT, Panacea and the Casino. We already have all the attractions we need. There's no room for the ferry."

"Yet Brockton's _still_ fading," dad argued. "The gangs, the crime rates, the growing unemployment…"

"Only on The Docks," Jackson countered, "and that's not including the Boardwalk. The Boardwalk and the area around it are _thriving_ right now with a higher per capita than the areas downtown, and the Ruby Dreams is bringing in some much needed income as well."

"But not all of The Docks are thriving," dad said. "The general neighborhoods, the warehouses, the school even…" Dad fumbled with his briefcase, all gangly limbs and spindly fingers, his eyes wide – too wide – and his face had a flush as he ripped the papers from their casings. He didn't resemble a businessman anymore, just plain old excitable dad. Not the dad from this year, or even the year after, but from when mom was still alive, eyes bright and back straight. "Here, look at this, you see it too, right? These are-"

"Predictions, charts, and past years, yes," Jackson said, his voice calm, but he took his glasses from his face, rubbing them on his shirt, facing down – there hadn't been a spec on those glasses. I shifted to Dad, eyes trained on his briefcase, hands fumbling, rustling for papers, passionate, excited, energetic and loud. The office, by comparison, remained neat and tidy, ignoring his efforts and emotions, ostracizing him in a way. Dad stood out.

He looked completely out of place.

"I'm sorry Mr. Hebert," Jackson said, looking up, glasses perched on his nose and his hands leaning forwards. "But the predictions don't help your case. Ten years till profits-"

"At the most," dad decided to point out, still grinning, leaning forwards. Jackson didn't seem enthused.

I shifted in my seat, glancing over to Kenta. He hadn't changed positions, still leaning into the wall, looking towards me and shrugging his shoulders. I made sure to hold his gaze. Shifting my papers to the side I deliberately crossed my legs. The signal for deal we'd agreed on. He'd told me I had three.

This would be my fourth.

Kenta stared for a moment, unmoving, brow arched, before raising his hand to the back of his head and tapping his heels on the side of the wall. Jackson heard this, looked up, and his eyes switched between us, before turning back to dad with an apologetic smile.

"I'm sorry, give me a moment. We'll discuss this over break. Kenta. Ahri."

"Arianna," I corrected, collecting my briefcase from my side. The corner of his eye held a brief, short spasm.

I smiled politely and followed him from room. I brushed by dad, brow furrowed, still searching for papers. I wanted to hug him. I also wanted to smack him. I just gave him a nod. The door closed behind us, soundproofed of course. When I entered Kenta turned, mouth firm, eyes unreadable. I had to tilt my head to see him, our chests almost touched. My heart sped and sweat beaded, my mouth felt a little dry. The urge to swallow was tempting, and if I smiled, it would have cracked. So I just kept a neutral expression and treated this like Winslow. Stone faced and limbs rigid, I bore with it the best I could.

"The ferry project takes money," Kenta rumbled, unmoving.

"It does," I conceded. "But so do the repairs."

"They were necessary, needed. The ferry is not."

"The ferry turns a profit," I said. Jackson handed him a chart. Kenta brandished it before me, in a slow, casual wave.

"Six years," he said. "Six years till first profit. Ten if everything doesn't go as planned. Plans never last."

"Don't they?" I asked, shooting him a challenging look, grasping for straws at this point. He was right. They really don't.

So why did he look so contemplative when I finished that statement? He eyed me up and down for a moment, arms crossed on his chest.

"You have used all your vetoes."

"I have," I responded.

"Then how will you repay me?"

"A favor." He nodded.

"You will have to go further than you promised before."

"No killing," I stated.

"Of course," he said. He stared down at me for a moment as if figuring a puzzle, looking at me from angles, eyes losing focus at times. It felt weird when he did this, like being studied and weighed, but that's what he was doing, wasn't it? Finding how I could be useful.

The clock in the room went tick-tock, tick-tock. The dim lighting all around us cast his eyes into shadow. Pencil touched paper with both scritch and a scratch as Jackson sat in the background, drawing something on his desk. He was strangely subdued from what I've seen of him, his expression even and blank. It was creepy. Really creepy. I looked away as Kenta spoke.

"You will be working with criminals to repay debt in this favor. The cost, while in reach, is more than I'm willing to spend."

"I'm aware," I said, nodding. That's where my previous line stopped. It wouldn't be a favor otherwise, he'd fulfilled his side of the deal. Did I want to do this? Not really. Did I have to? Not that either. But if it made dad happy, and brought back some of that warmth…I'd like that. I would. This morning was nice. I want to wake up more often and a share a laugh with my dad.

"We will talk of this later," Kenta said, nodding firmly. "I will think on how to use this and notify you in a day. Deal." His hand extended. I shook it with my own, his dwarfing mine by a large margin. He snapped his fingers at Jackson.

Jackson nodded, suddenly animated, dropping his pen, moving through the door with a smile while flicking his suit with a finger.

"We are agreed," he said, smiling, and dad's returned in full force. "You'll have to thank Ahri for this, she spearheaded your cause."

"Arianna," I said, letting some exasperation show. Dad rose from his seat, taking my hand with two of his.

"Thank you," he said, his voice filled with emotion. "Thank you for doing this. I know how hard it must have been."

 _No dad, you really don't._

"It was nothing," I said, molding my face to a smile.

Yeah. Lying sucks. -x- 1.3

 _Briiing-Briiing_

I kept walking, one hand on my briefcase, feet moving faster, not running, but close. My other hand strayed towards my pocket at times before curling, nails digging into the flesh of my palm.

Nope.

 _Briiing-Briiing_

People tended to look as I passed; oh, they averted their gazes, but I caught turned heads and shadowed eyes, hearing whispers as I passed in the wake of my movement. It wasn't like Winslow in their hushed, snide voices. Well, not mainly, there were _some_ but not most. Some of the voices sounded playful, cajoling, good humored whispers between friends and speculative responses. I couldn't hear what they were saying – too many voices – but I was able to tell the gist by their tone.

Why did I grab their attention? I mean they were definitely talking about me. There was a pattern as I passed; normal jabber, then a lull, then sudden excited whispers.

Was I moving funny or off? Was there something on my clothes? Was there some spinach in my teeth from the omelet this morning? That wouldn't make sense as I'd transformed, but it was a possibility, it was _something._

 _Briiing-Briiing_

I passed by a store – closed, it was Sunday – dark glass reflective in the shade of its awning. It wasn't really a mirror or even anything close, but I caught a glimpse of myself as I passed all the same. Black hair spilled down my back in an artfully messy manner, flowing down my shoulders and framing my face. My vest-shirt combo was snug in a form fitting manner and my slacks, while looser, were still cut for my figure. Nothing looked out of place from what _I_ could tell at least, so maybe it was my expression?

Wide-eyed, lips pressed, not in a line but more relaxed; nothing off there as far as I could tell, maybe my whisker marks instead. I'm pretty sure this looked more natural than my _normal_ expression, what with how stone faced I get when I'm dealing with issues. That meant all the time lately.

 _Briiing-Briiing_

And speaking of issues…

I flipped the phone from my pocket – one of Kenta's, sleek and new – contemplating it for a moment, taking shelter in the awning. The shade was cool and welcome relief. It was almost like nature thought it was summer in the middle of spring. There were only two people that I knew of who could have this number. One was Kenta, I mean he gave me it after all, and the other was Seka. Kenta has only spoken in texts so far. One for my meeting, short sweet and direct. Well, not like Seka had used it any more than he did, but she's the only one who called me. And wasn't _that_ an experience.

Separating her rants from information had been a study in patience. I'd had _notes_ written down just to decipher what she'd been saying. Two pages, hand written, for a message that basically boiled down to 'I'll pick you up from your dad's. Give me a call when you need it.'

So yeah, it's probably Seka, but do I really want to pick up? On one hand, I'd had enough. Today had been a little too stressful. Well, not more than the days I'd helped Seka, which was _kind_ of the point. The past few days in my own form hadn't been great, but they'd been better _._ School was decent, the trio quiet, and I'd done quite a lot of research on Empire 88 and their capes.

Well, till Kenta came calling – the last two days had been frantic. My companion was the internet and my confidant the mirror which took my fancy words and funny faces with a calm, patient air. Better than I had for certain, I missed myself by the end.

 _Especially_ my hair.

When I've spent so much time working on it, to see it casually disappear…something about that just bugged me in a way I couldn't really put to words.

Flipping my phone closed, I set my foot to the sidewalk. Well, no matter, that was the last ring anyways. If I hadn't picked up, well, I hadn't picked up, so I guess-

 _Briiing-Briiing_

-that Seka's stubborn as a mule, and picking up might shut _this_ up.

"Seka," I said, letting exasperation color my tone.

"Yo Arian-"

"Arriana," I corrected, before blushing. "Sorry, reflex."

Wow. Correcting a false name by reflex? I really need to spend time as myself. Just Taylor, no changes, no extra bits either.

"Yeah? Well you armor's all finished, you coming or what?"

Ooh. New armor.

"Sure," I said, smiling. "I'll be there in a jiff."

-

Seka worked on her bench with a calm, efficient air, head bobbing to the beat of her music in the background. Pounding drums, guitar riffs – yeah, it was rock. The beat drummed through the floor with a heavy, deep bass. It set my teeth on edge as I entered, though she didn't seem to notice. The faint scent of spice wafted slowly through the air, shawarma, half eaten, sitting ignored on her desk, well away from where she worked but still in reach of her fork. Tinfoil crunched as I stepped through this bastion of chaos, chip bags and old packages littering the floor moving towards Seka in the center, the eye of the storm. Labeled beakers and stacked metal, open books pnd strange tools, a pile of shirts stacked up neatly with others thrown on the floor. I didn't have to ask her what that meant, I could already imagine her response. 'This stuff? This matters. Everything else can go to hell.'

On the other hand, her bookcase, by the bathroom, just seemed to be there. It didn't seem neat, just new, with nothing on it's shelves.

Seka turned as I entered, indicating the phone on her ear with a jerk of her head. I let her be, just observing, hanging back by the wall.

It's kind of surprising how similar Seka looks to Naoko. I mean they're mother and daughter, but still, it's eerie. Oh, she's half Asian all right, but it only shows in her eyes, though the curve of her jaw is more European. I wouldn't be able to say from where. Same hair, cut to the shoulder, same soft brow and high cheeks, same height even – about 5'2" – and same curve of the nose, the same wrinkles on their brow if caught deep in thought. This makes this pretty funny because you could translate their expressions, and imagining Seka's look of consternation on Naoko? That tickled, just a bit.

"Look, I'm not selling," Seka said, hands moving deftly over metal, phone caught neatly between her ear and her shoulder. "Wait, what's that you said?"

Seka gasped in mock astonishment, her eyes wide as saucers.

"Money? How much? Half a million? _Wow_. That's a lot; too much maybe. Might have to give you another. This patent's not worth it."

The voice on the other end grew conciliatory, with a small edge of confidence. Seka kicked back in her chair, the front legs off the floor.

"No, I'm being serious. You deserve this one way more. See, I made this cure."

The voice turned interested.

"Yeah, a cure. Yep, you guessed it. A cure for cancer no less. I'll be needing it after this phone call but hey, you need it more. The recipe's _secret_ though." A finger rose to her lips.

"Shh."

The voice grew hopeful. Seka just grinned. A cat hunting a mouse, all bared teeth and daggers.

"See, there's a secret ingredient, but you peddle it, so I figure you're good. Ever heard of snake oil?"

The voice turned angry, condescending. Seka rolled her neck, jostled her phone, raising my mask from her bench.

"Oh you think it's easy then, do you? Well then _make it yourself._ "

The line went dead. Seka shrugged, swiveling around in her chair.

"Arianna. What's up."

"Nothing much," I said, shifting, unsure how to react; I mean this room was so _Seka_ that I didn't feel like I fit. "Who was just calling?"

"Medhall." The word rolled of her tongue as an oily black smog, hanging reluctant in the air. Seka didn't seem to like it either.

"Asking about your sanitizers?"

"Yep," she said, nodding. "Here, I changed your mask, try it out," she said, tossing it. I caught it, albeit reluctantly, rolling the visage in my hand and searching for changes.

It looked the same on the outside, bone white with red tracings, fierce, elegant lines emphasizing seemingly delicate feminine curves, fitting the ideal to the tee but for dagger teeth, red eyes. The difference was on the back and while the mouth wasn't open there were new molds in place to fit around my teeth. I frowned.

"What's this for?"

"Changing your voice synthesizer, duh."

"Wouldn't a button have been enough?" I asked, moving the mold up and down. The outside teeth moved in response. I changed their position. Eyes glowed with red wisps. This seemed more like an excuse for her to show off than anything else. This could have been made so economical as well. Lose the teeth, just plain mask.

"A button? _Please._ You'd have to take it off to change the settings. This is an interface control," she responded, moving to kick her door closed with a really smug cast to her features like she'd just done something big. "Go on, try it out."

Well, she already made the changes, might as well get this over with. The clasp hadn't changed, though it now slipped over my ears, giving them points as well as armor, covering everything from my neck to my hairline. Seka passed me some notes and a mirror, heading back to her workbench with a wave, a jaunt in her step as her feet crunched on the floor. I didn't begrudge her that pride, to be honest, she deserved it. Some of these changes were _amazing_ and would help out a lot.

Functions were noted on the paper in scribbles with sketched depictions of the movements my jaw would need to make; motions to control the outer teeth or turn off the glowing eyes, night vision, heat vision, and turning the synthesizer off – that last one was the clincher. The mirror caught my eye as I worked. I looked completely demonic.

"Testing," I said. My voice was normal at least. Well, for this form, so just as expected.

"That what you wanted?"

"Yes," I said with a smile in my voice, an actual audible one, not that strange double one I've been using for a while. I mean my other self is scary enough – the videos I recorded of myself acted as proof. I moved more like a predator than anything human. And imagining myself meeting _dad_ when I'm like that…

Let's just say I'd like to avoid that ever happening.

"Course you like it," Seka said with a smug, knowing grin, and I nodded, about to reach up and take it off-

"Nope," Seka said, slapping my hand away.

"But-"

"Nope," she said again, pushing me along. Next thing I knew I was inside her bathroom.

"Don't come out till you put this on!" she called, tossing me a pile of cloth and slamming the door in my face. I mean the lock was on the inside, but-

Grunts, curses, and wood scraping the floor. I moved to the door, pushing the handle. The door didn't budge. Staring, I kicked it once, then again, then one more time, just to make sure I wasn't seeing things. Or feeling things even.

"Seriously? You moved your _bookcase_ in front?"

I kicked the door again. Just once for good measure.

"Yep!" she chirped. I heard shuffles through the door.

" _Why?"_

"Well how else was I supposed to get you into that thing? You run screaming from risqué!"

Oh boy. I didn't like the sound of that. It turned from an innocent bundle of a cloth to a live, writhing snake. There had to be a way out of this. But how? What are my options? Door blocked, no windows, not even an air vent. Could I blow out the door? No, the bookcase looked expensive. Not the walls, I could hear people, faint murmurs above and below…Making some movements and slipping the cloth around my fingers, I stomped my feet every once in a while, doing this for five minutes.

"It's on."

"Yeah? Well send me the pics."

"Pics?" I asked, smiling. "But I don't have a camera."

"There's one in the drawer," she cheerfully pointed out. I looked, digging through the drawer. There was. I glared at the package. The book case, the camera, but maybe not the people…

"When'll Bakuda let us leave?"

Someone grunted. They bouth sounded above me.

"How should I know? Just keep standing, easy money."

Scratch that, them too. I picked up the package with a cringe and a gulp. No way out.

This had been _planned._ _-x-_ 1.4

"So?" Seka asked, grinning, brushing some hair from sky blue eyes that fell spider-silk thin from a loose ponytail. Cold air caressed my thighs in a breathy embrace as the bags carpeting the floor crunched beneath my feet. I hugged myself, just a bit, feeling those alien bumps and ridges as a second skin that clung to my body.

"So what?" I asked, fingers tangling in my arms as I hugged myself closer. "Are we done here? Can I take this thing off?"

Seka blinked, spinning round in her chair with her arms clasped behind her head and her legs crossed before her. A posture of confidence. I've seen Mr. Gladly use it before.

"Huh. Didn't expect that response."

"You _knew_ I wouldn't like this," I said, making my frustration evident. "That's why you set this whole thing up. What response did you expect."

"Oh, gee, I don't know," she said, before raising her voice to a high falsetto. "Wow Seka, this is awesome! Thanks for going through all the trouble of even bothering to make it!"

I moved to interrupt, but she just talked over me, bringing a hand to her mouth.

"Wait, its tinkertech too? Wow, you've really outdone yourself Seka! Thanks a lot! You're such a great friend!" She nodded cheerily, patting herself on her back before turning to me with an arched brow. "I don't know, _appreciation?"_

Okay, so I was acting ungrateful, she didn't have to make any of this. By that same token she didn't have to _force me into it._

"Tinkertech?" I asked, trying to take a pinch of the cloth. It slipped through my fingers and adhered to my arm, refusing to budge so I ended up grasping at nothing. "That won't matter if it's _this_ thin."

"Wow, you really _don't_ know anything," Seka said, swiveling around in her chair with a sardonic expression as she stared at the ceiling. The drawers rustled as her hand moved autonomous from her sight, fingers dancing through them till she retrieved what she wanted. She eyed it, turning it round in her hand, holding it up to let it shine in the light.

"Catch," she said, tossing it over her shoulder. I snatched it from the air with barely a thought, blinking for a second.

A knife. And not just any knife but one for combat no less. I'd like to say I was surprised she had one. At any other time I probably would have been, but right now…

"I really should have known that you would have something like this," I said, twisting it in my hands till I was holding the handle.

"Something like this," she repeated, giving me a once over. "You're in a real pissy mood."

"I wonder why," I said dryly. "I was just forced into an outfit so ridiculously indecent-"

"Indecent?" Seka said with a laugh. "Yeah, you got no ground to stand on. You run around in a tank top. That thing's so tight your tits nearly fall out."

"You're the one who bought it."

"You're the one who _wears_ it."

"Look, _you're_ the one who picked the thing out," I said, moving closer, waving a hand down my outfit. "This too, I didn't even get a say."

"Complaining about a gift," she said, rolling her eyes. "Well aren't you entitled. Right, I'm tired of this drama. Stop faking, yeah? I want to hear what _you_ think."

 _"_ _Faking?"_ I said. "This _is_ me. And complaining? A gift? You _forced_ me to wear this."

"Just drop the prissy girl act," she said with a sigh. "I know that one wouldn't like it, but the real you? You'd _love_ this. So c'mon, hurry up, tell me what you think."

Seka's eyes were half lidded as she leaned back in her seat, one hand in her jeans pocket, the other on her phone. Unconcerned and relaxed in her chair, her head bobbed to a beat, looking completely unconcerned. She believed that. She actually did. She thinks that I'm the fake and that my other self is _real._

"Fuck this," I muttered, heading back to the bathroom, leaving Seka's space with barely a thought and not once looking back. Of _course_ she would think that. She's a villain, why not? She probably _liked_ the thought that I was capable of murder.

 _Capable, but I didn't,_ a little voice said. I ignored this in favor of slamming the door.

"The fuck?" Seka called. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Taking this off," I said, staring into the mirror, fiddling for a clasp between my suit and my mask. I even look the part of the villainous when I'm like this. Thigh high red boots with white trimming on my feet, leaving my legs bare to the top of my thighs. Oh, they were covered somewhat with some red and white shorts, but the rest of my legs were left bare to the world. Still, this was innocent enough till you came to my top, a skeletal white with red markings that looked closer to my mask.

Ribs appeared surrounding my back and a spine down my own, connecting from head to my legs with the appearance of bone but only once it had connected to my mask. A power source there? No matter, for now. The front had none of this till you reached up to my chest which was hugged by a bone white expanse that seemed more to accentuate than anything else, but I guess it could be armor as well. Sleeves covered my arms, red swimming down white in long, flowing gestures till you reached for my hands, clawed skeletal things with red runes carved engraved in the tips and the edges.

The figure in the mirror didn't look like a hero; more like a villain or monster, half flesh, half bone. It raised a rune rimmed hand to its sharp, delicate teeth, as if testing them somehow. Neither seemed to budge. One hand moved from behind it, holding a knife, running it across the arm. No cuts were shown.

So this _was_ tinkertech. That…was actually really useful. Maybe I should-

No. I'm not giving in. My name is Taylor. This was built for _Arianna._ She doesn't exist. Neither should this.

I reached for my neck where I'd attached the outfit to my mask, but couldn't find the release.

"It's in your mask," Seka said. She was leaning in the doorway, and when I looked her mouth opened for a great, yawning second before snapping shut with a click. She ran a hand through the hair to the back of her head as it moved back towards the doorframe and she tossed me a paper. "Here, it's another jaw command for the mask. It should be easy after that; it's made to peel off. It just tightens when it comes in contact with the thing."

"I didn't know you could make this cloth."

"I can't," she said. I nodded, looking away from her quickly.

This probably cost _a lot_.Now I felt like an ass.

"What's this second one for?" I said, pointing out the command.

"There's a second layer for the outfit." She jerked her finger behind her. "A short Kimono for cover."

"A kimono?"

"Like a robe," she said, a bit more humor in her voice, making little motions with her hands like 'you know this, right?' She moved back, tossing it to me. I slipped it on easy, it adhered to the suit. It really _did_ cover more, thought it opened at the curve of my chest, going down to my boots and cut down the center at my legs.

"Thanks," I said, before shedding the thing. It did make it more bearable, but still.

"No problem," she responded, one eye open, one eye closed. Her head rolled to the side, seemingly contemplating her tub. I let her be, folding the robe on the counter.

"Say," she said, "are you all that busy later?"

"No?"

"Well, want to go someplace after? Just for food, y'know? I'm thinking Mexican today."

Really? She's trying to apologize _now_? Too little too late, even with how I'd been acting. She still forced me into this without asking my opinion, and I just wanted to go home, change back, and be myself. Me as I'm _supposed_ to be, not me how she thinks I am. But then again, this was still an apology.

That's more than Emma's ever done for our friendship.

"Sure," I said. "Now get out while I'm changing."

"Yeah, why?" she said, head tilting. "It's not like you're naked. You've still got your underwear, right?"

I pushed her out and slammed the door, glad that my mask was still on. I could have fried an egg on my face.

-

The ride to the restaurant had been an awkward affair of half exchanged looks and somewhat apologies. Well, that could just me, Seka seemed cool as a cucumber. That was the problem. She's usually loud. I got the feeling she was just biding her time for the right moment to apologize, but that didn't stop me from trying myself. Once I got over my anger. Well, most of it at least.

Earlier wasn't an overreaction, but at the same time it was. She really _shouldn't_ have forced me to get into that thing. But at the same time she'd put money and effort into the costume. For her that was a gift, and at worst it was a prank. But what she said about me… that still hurt. It's why I cut myself off, never finishing apologies. The stink of our argument was an acid in the air, dissolving whatever bond that we had and eroding our thoughts.

"We're here," Seka said, two fingers in the air making 'come hither' motions as she walked from the car. She wore sunglasses – today was surprisingly sunny – an overlarge t-shirt and a small pair of shorts. Having stuffed my backpack in her car before meeting dad earlier, I had a small option of clothes to choose from. I had, of course, gone for the simplest I could find for this form. At least I had jeans and a somewhat plain blouse, textured grey with gold vines swirling their way up the front.

The costume remained in my backpack which in turn remained in the car, taunting me with its presence and very existence. Much like my mask it was too useful to be rid of, it's not like I could make my own after all, though even a thought brought a bitter taste to my mouth, of ashes and poison berries with something foul in the mix. It was the reveal, I think, that did it the most. She didn't see Taylor; see _me,_ as the one who was real. Maybe she realized she was wrong and that's why she was being conciliatory. Then again, maybe she didn't.

After all, _other_ me could be mad, couldn't she? It seems everyone wants Arianna, no one Taylor.

The restaurant was a cheery affair of loud noises and bright colors, reds, yellows and green were the predominate colors. There was a sun sitting beside us with a grin on the wall, trying to cheer us both. It didn't succeed, well, not for me. The menus were served, and we flipped through them in a void filled with silence, the laughter of others ignored in our gloom. Then the chips came, and the salsa soon after, and our silence was broken as Seka bit one with a crunch. She took off her sunglasses.

"So, what're you getting?"

I didn't respond, closing my menu.

"Why did you take me here?"

"Why not?" Seka said, shrugging. "Didn't see any reason not to, I mean I was hungry, you were hungry, thought we could hang out…"

"You know that's not what I mean," I said. Seka trailed off, finally meeting my eyes, her hand reaching down for a chip as she deliberately chewed with long, slow chomps before swallowing not long after.

"Have a chip."

"I don't-"

"For fucks sake just have one, it's not going to kill you."

I stopped, stared. She didn't look so casual anymore, eyes a bit wider, fingers grasping the table. I had a chip. Seka took another. I did too. After a few more Seka pointed at the menu.

"So. What're you getting?" I stared at her, she waved me on.

"Tea," I said, after a moment of thought.

"Sweet," she said, ignoring my glare. "What type? Anything special about it or-"

Avoiding the issue.

"Seka," I said, interrupting her, "what exactly are you trying to pull."

"Nothing!" she said throwing her hands in the air. "I'm just eating, catching some dinner, and making some conversation. You know, _moving on._ "

"Moving on," I said, looking down at my menu. "Okay." Moving on from what, my existence? "I think I can deal with that."

I engrossed myself in the menu, not really seeing anything. Seka didn't respond. When I looked up I saw her moving over, her grin gone for once and a hand on my arm.

"Right, let's go."

"Where?" I said, reining my arm in. She pulled back harder.

"We're going outside. I have had enough of this bullshit."

"Nothing's going on," I said, wresting my arm from her grip. "It's fine," I breathed. "Really, it is."

Seka turned, placing both hands on the table, leaning in to hiss in my ear.

"See, this is what I'm talking about. This passive aggressive everything's fine _bullshit._ If we're moving on, great, we're moving on. But if something's bugging you _this_ badly then we're having a talk."

"This badly?" I said, meeting her gaze. "There's nothing different. I'm acting perfectly normal."

"See," Seka said, moving even closer. "Here's where your wrong. Like that last comment you made? That was downright frosty. You're going all ice queen on me, and that hasn't happened before. Your eyes are narrowed and you're pretty much looking down your nose. Something's up. We're going. Meet me by the car." She thumped the table with her hand, heading back towards the car, snapping her fingers at a waiter. "Me and her will be back, save that spot will you?"

He nodded. I followed. What else could I do? Go back? She had the money. Little options found there.

Seka was waiting there with one hand in her pocket, sitting on the hood of the front of her car. I passed under the large grinning sun of the restaurant, stopping a few feet away from her.

"Okay," she said, "So what's the big deal? What's got you upset? You think I'm…what, labeling you wrong?"

"I don't think, I _know_ ," I said, moving closer to whisper. "And labeling? Not close. You think I'm someone else. I already _told_ you this, you know, back in the car? On the way to the hospital? My name is _Taylor._ Not Arianna. Not this."

"Okay," Seka said, staring at me strangely. She brought a hand to her forehead, fingers trailing down her face. "Okay," she said again. "I guess this still works."

"Okay?" I said. "That's it? That's your only response?"

"What the hell do you expect me to say?" She said, throwing her hands in the air. "Yeah, you're Taylor. So what? What changes?"

"Everything-"

 _"_ _Nothing,"_ she said, interrupting. "Yeah, you don't like the costume. I get it, you're mad. And hey, look," she took a deep breath, a strange expression crossed her face. It didn't look like it fit. "Sorry, okay? I didn't think you'd take it that badly. I just meant it as a joke. Besides, I know that at least _part_ of you likes this." She leaned forwards at that, like she was fishing for something.

"It would," I said, because really, she was right. My other side would probably _love_ the thing. As much as I hate the mask like that, it's just because it makes me too scary, not for what it reveals. "But I _don't._ Look, this isn't me, you've already seen me before. Brown hair, scrawny, teenage, not-"

"Body image," Seka said. Staring at me strangely. "You're freaking kidding me. 'Body image,' is what this is all about? Holy shit of all the dumb imaginary reasons, you choose _this_ as teenage angst issue of choice?"

"What?" I said, blinking, "but that's-"

"Nonono, hold on," she said, holding out a hand. She breathed, hand to her nose, letting out a quick here breath. You know what, sure, I'll play along. Look here. Is that the big deal? Okay, fine, I get you don't like the costume, but _that's all that it is._ You say you're a different person? Great! Everyone is in a costume. If it's not _you,_ it doesn't affect _you,_ so this shouldn't be a problem."

"It's not that at all. You don't _get_ it," I said, getting frustrated by this. "Everything happens to Arianna Nothing happens to Taylor, to _me._ People seem to only like me _because_ of these changes, not for anything important or anything me."

"Yeah, body issues and confidence, holy shit teens are hell," Seka muttered under her breath.

That…that wasn't it. That was some of it, sure, but she made everything sound so simple, so _small._ "

"I'm telling you-"

"Ah, ah, no," Seka said, waving her finger in my face. "Nope, don't continue, I'll talk. See, I think there's something that you're not getting."

"Like _what_ ," I said, frustrated. She thumped the car next to me. Reaching into her purse she pulled out a mirror. "Look. Is that you?"

I stared at her. "No?"

"Bear with me here then. Is that anyone else? A cousin, an aunt, maybe your mom?"

"Not really," I said, crossing my arms. She closed her compact to put away the mirror, hands reaching up as she grasped me by the shoulders while showing way too much teeth.

"Great!" she said. "Now look at this way. You currently have this face, and no one else does. Doesn't this mean, I don't know, that this person is _you_?"

"I didn't mean it _that_ way," I said, moving back. She was close. _Way_ too close. This didn't feel right. "I accept that it's me in the case it's no one else, but it's not me as I am, as I've _worked_ for since forever-"

"Yep, body issues," she said, opening the car door. "Get in, go change."

"Changing clothes won't help," I said. _Body_ image. That's really all that she thinks this is.

"Your form! Your form! Holy shit, why are you acting dense?" she said, bringing a hand to her head. "Right. I'm tired of dealing with this so we're nipping this at the bud. You think your form matters? Then I'll prove I don't _care_. Go ahead, change, wear whatever you want. Take your damn time. I'll be saving our spot." Her hand waved in the air as a final salute as she walked some distance away, dwindling in my view till she stopped by a sign. I tried the door.

"It's locked."

She held up her keys. There was a click, the lights flashed, the tumblers moved in her car, and she gave me one last sardonic wave before disappearing into the restaurant, my only remaining companion the giant grinning sun. I looked at it, looked away, then looked at the Car. Seka seemed serious. Might as well try this out.

The change was a quick one; I couldn't tell how time passed anyways, and when I was out the sun was still high in the sky. The fake one was too, but I did my best to ignore it. Changing to some sweats and a purple PRT tee I walked back in without anyone the wiser. Oh the waiter looked at me funny but Seka waved him off, passing me a menu, raising her eyebrow. She changed sides to mine after, leaning over my shoulder.

"So Taylor," she said, and I smiled at the name. "What'll you order?"

"Some tea," I said, looking over the menu, not feeling guilty this time. We had the money now, dad could eat out if he wanted. "And maybe a fajita."

"Cool, cool," Seka said with a nod, waving down the waiter, before squinting at my shirt. _"_ _Armsmaster?"_

"What of it?" I asked, because Armsmaster's awesome. I mean sure I mostly had it since I liked him as a kid, but he's still a great hero and leads the Protectorate for a reason. The Brockton Bay one, he still answers to Alexandria.

"The guy is a _dick._ "

"Oh really?"

 _"_ _Yeah."_

Our conversation went like this with its highs and her lows, her frivolous, usually _wrong_ comments adding fuel to our fire.

I mean Armsmaster, a jerk? Where was she getting this? Personal experience she said.

There was some laughter, heated arguments, and a barrage of obscure saying, her anarchist bias showing through to the end. But that was okay, that was good, she really hadn't changed, treating me exactly the same. I ended up forgiving her a little more than a bit. As the shadows lengthened I grew a smile, not quite as bad as the sun's, and we commiserated our forgiveness over our mutual hatred of the thing. I hadn't had this in some three odd years; this feeling of camaraderie was so close, so familiar. And while Seka's not the best person, and she has plenty of faults…

Well, who doesn't? I'm glad she's my friend. 


	8. Chapter 81

2.1

Had it already been a day? It really felt like less, my long lunch with Seka still fresh in my mind. Still, that didn't change the fact that I was meeting with Lung. It wasn't at the Casino either but some vague place down the docks, and Seka was busy so I had to _walk_ to the place. Okay, so I _did_ take the bus, but I had to walk the rest of the way, and walking in the rain like this wasn't really all that fun. Not that I had expected it to rain; sunbeams had rained in place of water, fluffy clouds floating by in a sea of bright blue, but the sky had quickly darkened to this steel grey color, flailing about with its bucket of large, heavy rain.

Checking my watch on my wrist, I frowned, leaning back, rickety wood awning shielding me from the weather. Great. Just great. Good going Taylor. Why hadn't I brought my hoodie again? I think it was the news crew, what had they said? 'Today will be sunny with a five percent chance of rain, so get your beach clothes and shorts on-'

Blah. Yeah, right.

My shirt and jeans combo felt woefully inadequate when faced with the mighty wetness of the sky and its tantrum. The thought of armoring up struck me out of the blue, but while I was a little more accepting of the outfit I _still_ didn't like it, and using it just to fight rain would be kind of petty. Still, it was tempting, and I found my hand straying to the zipper, but this place was too public. I hung my head with a sigh.

The docks really seem dreary whenever the weather turns sour, the bright colors of old china town fading in the rain. This is also true for downtown but it's certainly felt more here, the watery veil that was draped over Brockton was especially harsh on the great vibrant reds. The only splash of color was an ironically plain looking white van that chose this moment to stop by my impromptu cover. I figured there wouldn't be anything interesting to see there so I let my head fall back and pulled my hand where I could see it. Ten minutes till I had to show up to the meeting and I was what, seven blocks out? Maybe I should just run, I'm sure Kenta wouldn't mind me showing up sopping wet to a big important meeting.

"Excuse me," a male voice said. I didn't turn towards it though as I glared at the rain.

"Mmm?" I said in response, though I use that term lightly. It was more a mumble than anything else I had uttered, a lazy exhalation of air through some cracks in my lips.

"I was wondering if you might answer a few questions."

Well, might as well, this wouldn't take too long anyways, and then I'd be off like a bullet to reach Kenta through the rain-

Oh. _Oh._

"You're a news man," I said, eyes wide, mouth parting. A news man. _A news man._ That was a huge understatement, and also bad wording. Ugh, what happened to my brain? My nerves were suddenly on fire and I looked around quickly but nope, no cameras, just the man and his notepad. I raised my hand somewhat awkwardly and waved. "Uh. Hi."

Jason Takaeda smiled brightly in response with his news anchor grin and a hand extended before him. I took it, somewhat hesitantly, trying not to stain his clothes with my rain slicked hands – they looked really expensive. Dry too, probably because of his umbrella, which also saved his impeccably combed hair.

"Yes, yes I am," he said, his shake at once friendly and firm, not quite setting me at ease but it came somewhat close. His gaze was warm and…something else. Some excitement, closely guarded, some enthusiasm of course, they characterized his castings, so no, this was quieter. If I had to name an emotion, well not an emotion but a state, I'd call it…deferential? He could just be polite.

"Um, the questions," I said, giving a quick look around. Nope, nothing exciting. Had I missed it somehow? "Nothing exciting really happened, so you might want someone else."

"No, I think I have the right person," he said with a wink. I blinked at that, pulling myself from the wall.

"Well, sorry then, I don't really have the time," I said apologetically, waving a hand at the rain. "I've actually got somewhere that I need to be pretty soon, and I figure I'll just run for it to avoid all the rain."

"We can share an umbrella, and we can talk while we walk," he said with a smile while hefting said object up in his hand. Hmm. That could work, and it would certainly be dryer, but to have my questions on national _television,_ well, that would be nerve wracking. He might have sensed my discomfort because he held up a hand, taking the bud from his ear and the mike from his collar, eyes knowing and patient.

"Well okay," I said with a bit of a sigh, I mean it wouldn't hurt anything, would it? They were just a few questions. He moved over in his umbrella and kept close to his side. It was weird thinking this, but normally I would be taller. I stand around at 5'10" and he's what, 5'8"? But right now I'm two inches shorter, which really bugged me for some reason. While I'd never really liked my height, well, there were some advantages.

We began to walk down the rainy sidewalk, water dripping from concrete to pool beneath us on the street. My sneakers weren't up to the task of the puddles, and I shivered as droplets of water touched bare skin.

"I just want you to know that this will be anonymous, well mostly," Jason said, reaching into his pocket to take a look at his phone. "I know you're Kitsune."

I would have made a break for it then, but he held up his hand palm up, a reassuring gesture.

"Oh don't worry, I'm not about to expose you. Not more than you already have been, my uncle was at the hospital you see."

"Your uncle?" I asked, still eying the rain, suddenly looking much more welcoming; the meeting wasn't too far, now was it?

"My uncle," he said. "And no, he didn't take pictures. He gave some good descriptions though, he has a real way with words, though this was partly because you're such a beautiful woman.

"Ah, thanks," I said, without much enthusiasm. I didn't really know how to take that, I never get that response normally. His smile turned sheepish, but he didn't look away.

"Well anyways, I was wondering if you would be up for an interview. You would be strictly known as Kitsune, no videos, pictures, or mentions of your name and your background."

I took a moment to pause and look around before I answered. The streets were all empty and the stalls were all closed. To the weather, not for business, but that was basically the same. No one would overhear us, and well, he _was_ asking. It might be good to get my identity out there as a hero after all, especially since I would be helping Kenta with some questionable things.

"Sure," I said, with a sigh at the end, hugging myself as we moved to ward away the damp and the cold. "But I'm warning you I won't be enthusiastic. Interviews and news stories are one of those things humans have that while I understand them I don't like the thought of being in them."

I mean other animals don't need interviews, why should we? Do we need to know every intricate detail of what goes in others lives? He merely smiled in response and gave a quick bow, his hand keeping hold of the umbrella above us as we continued to walk. I'm sure this was meant to be polite and everything but it just made me uncomfortable. I looked off to the side.

"Well first of all," Jason said, taking out a small notepad. "Is it true you have nine tails?"

"It is," I said. I thought that was fairly obvious.

"Did it take a century each to grow them all in?"

A broad figure of speech, but...

"It certainly feels that way," I said, rubbing my arms as we walked. He hummed, tapping his pen on his notepad, the little scritch-scratch blending with the pitter-patter of rain.

"What do you think of modern appliances such as the cellphone?"

"I'm not exactly fond of them, they're hard to use and annoying," I said in response. "Oh, I mean it's certainly useful, but it feels like it's trying to be everything at once. Isn't a clock or a watch good enough for telling time? How about a computer for internet? It's all moving so quickly…"

"I see," he said, humming, writing something on his pad. "How much further till we get there?"

"About two more blocks."

"Two more questions then. On a more personal note, I wonder if you'd mind telling the readers: do you prefer tofu or liver?"

Seka asked me that too. Is it an Asian thing? Some strange type of diet?

"It really depends on my mood. Am I looking for something healthier or something a little more fulfilling?"

"I see," he said, blinking quickly, before interjecting some humor in his voice. "I hope you won't be stealing mine."

I looked at him sideways, his eyes highlighted in humor by a passing neon sign.

"Only if you'd want me to," I said, a little playfully, he was obviously joking. It was so _easy_ to relax around this man, but I guess that's why he does interviews. He'd have to be good at this after all.

I have no idea why he paused after I said that though, he had this strange expression on his face, maybe a bit of indigestion? He shook himself out of that fugue pretty quick and presented a large award winning smile.

"Well, to wrap this up, is it true you control time?"

"Control time?" I said, turning my head to his direction. His cheery smile remained, though his eyes looked more intense. "Is that a serious question?"

"It's a valid one," he said. "Seeing as you collapsed that time bubble-"

"That bubble wasn't time," I cut in, fumbling for the words. "How do I explain this to someone who hasn't experienced it...Time is a presence that presses down on everyone, settling forces and governing laws. I don't control time so much as slip through on life essence to separate me from the rest of the world. That bubble wasn't time, but the principle remained, it was trying to impose laws and rules on the area. I just denied it and removed it from the world. It would be more accurate to call it a stasis field instead."

"I see," he said, eyes a little wide, putting his notepad away. His hand paused at his pocket and he turned to me slowly, legs still moving in our rhythmic walk. "Would you be willing to show me your bauble?"

"Sure," I said, smiling. Finally someone not afraid of it. I manifested it before me, a glowing beacon in the rain, casting its blues and its greens over the drenched grey cement. "Go ahead, you can hold it."

He looked oddly shocked.

"That's a great deal of trust you have there. What if I took it?"

"Well you're the first person to ask to see it, so there's the novelty of that," I said before smiling, a faint widening of lips. "But don't worry, it wouldn't matter, you couldn't take it if you tried."

He nodded slowly at that, reverently taking the ball from my hand. It felt good to show that off for a bit, and he seemed really excited, holding it up to see the swirls. I looked forwards and stopped, tugging on his umbrella. He stopped as well after a moment, and I looked up at the building.

"Well, we're here."

"I see," he said, stopping. His hand reached forwards with my ball cupped in his grasp, and I took it back with a nod. He responded with a bow. Wow, what's with this guy? It's not like I'm all that important.

"I thank you for this honor," he said, straightening. "Now I'll leave you to your business." He eyed the building we were at, all gold dragons and red wood – pretty obviously Lung's, if not _officially_ ABB.

"Don't worry, I have this well in hand," I said, tossing up my ball. Well, at least I hope that I did. He bowed again then left, and while this left me uncomfortable I felt pretty good. He didn't seem to think me as a villain, at all for that matter, and the interview had been polite, more on random stuff than anything else. This would paint me as a hero, and hopefully clear up a few misunderstandings. Like that liver tofu thing. I wonder what that's all about. Though he did seem to be getting more nervous the longer it went…maybe I didn't smile enough? I'd have to work on that some.

Still hugging myself just under my chest, I took a breath to compose myself while looking at my ball. I'd had some fun as myself, and my dad wasn't around. Other me would probably be better for this anyways. Studying it for a second, I closed my eyes, pushing everything in.

When my eyes opened they beheld the fanciful building, standing tall among its smaller companions. More like a mansion than a skyscraper, not as impressive as the casino but with the added option of being the public face of the ABB. Lung could be so obvious yet so clever at once. He wanted me to be _seen_ entering so people would draw conclusions from there. The weather conspired against him, but no use taking chances.

My lips drew apart as I unveiled my tails in an instant, the raindrops stopped in the air as I made my way inside. Guards stood before me, obvious ABB thugs at that. One guard was in the middle of a yawn, his hand raised right before his mouth. I pushed the hand forwards, just a bit, leaning the other man forwards a bit more than he was. Draining both as I passed, I brushed open the doors and closed them with my tails, running my fingers along the nameless humans in my way, light drain, nothing too harmful since I had entered his abode. I reached the room, smiling as I entered, moving back with the world as the doors slammed shut. Twin yelps sounded from the front of the mansion and my smile grew wider if anything at that.

I took my seat across from Lung as he began to look up from a small stack of papers, sipping at the open cup of tea on his desk, folding my hands in my lap and inclined my head slightly, my lips coming back together in a closed mouth smile.

Manners are important in meetings like this; it's not every day that you deal with dragons.

xXx-xXx

A.N. Right, so fics either going to be on a hella long hiatus or dead after this. I'm talking over a year easy. Getting really distracted by my other works, so...yeah. Anywho, thanks for reading!


End file.
